This Night
by kayel29
Summary: The Red Hood and Officer Grayson are on the same case. A small misstep has far reaching consequences for them both. Please read the Warnings.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: Off screen Non-Con, murder of innocent young people, violence and general unpleasantness.**

This is for the Batfam Xmas Exchange, for Tristen84

.

.

.

Jason first realized they were on the same case about two weeks before the shit hit the fan. It was no surprise really, both Dick's night job and his day job seemed to have been taken up with tracking these bastards down and ZK12 was the kind of organized crime gang the Red Hood took down with _extreme_ prejudice.

Their primary money-maker was drugs, but they also took frequent forays into prostitution, human trafficking, and kidnap for ransom. They had originally been based on the west coast, but in the past months had started to set up in smaller cities in the east of the country. They were staying out of Gotham because of the Bat, and sticking with the smaller port cities, but Bludhaven was close enough to Jason's turf to get his attention. He knew Nightwing would be on it too, but he fully intended to get there first and put the fuckers down.

Jason had been investigating for a few weeks and growing increasingly angry at what he had found, when he got his first break. In fact, the intel that lead him to the disused warehouse on one of the 'Havens less savory docks was his first bit of luck.

Unfortunately, it turned out it would also be his last.

Entry into the building was easy, but Jason wasn't anticipating a deal actually going down that night. The two teenagers were sitting on the cold cement floor; the boy, barely fourteen, had a glassy look of trauma. His eyes were dry, but his face was puffy, like he had been crying. The girl, older by a few years and with bruises on her skin, sat stiffly and glared at her captors defiantly. Jason realized they were two kidnap victims, missing for almost a month, one the teenage daughter of a low ranking politician from Santa Prisca and the other the son of a hotel manager. Small time pickings for such a well-organized gang. He reasoned that initially they were to be used to gain leverage in some way rather than for money, but then an American tourist had been caught in the crossfire and the story had hit the news, hard. The kids were no longer of any use, but being young, the gang could just move them and sell them to a brothel or private buyer.

The thought made Jason's blood boil.

There were five armed men surrounding them, with at least another seven on watch around the docks. Not terrible odds, but the hostages were going to complicate things. He would have to act before the buyer arrived, as they were an unknown quantity. Jason had the bare bones of a plan when fate intervened.

The apparent leader answered a call on his cell, his gun still held loosely. Jason shifted forward on his perch although he couldn't hope to hear what was being said. If his luck held, perhaps it was the buyer running late - but more likely it was reinforcements or something completely irreverent.

"I see," the man said. The sound of his voice barely carried, but Jason could read his lips. His face was expressionless as he shifted his weight and turned his body to the side. His lack of emotion, of any feeling at all, wasn't telegraphing his intent and it was just a glimmer of insight, a second too late, that clued Jason into his intentions.

Jason moved, guns already sighted and aiming but he was moments too late, and suit guy fired first. His gun swung up, not a flicker on his face as he shot the girl straight in the head. Jason's shot hit him bare moments after, but too fucking _slow_.

He swung down, already firing when, once again not doing the expected, a second man ignored him completely and opened fire on the boy, cutting him down as he scrambled towards Jason.

Cold fury took him over, almost blinding in its frigid intensity. These fuckers would wish they had never been born.

Jason sat on the roof and lit up a cigarette. He couldn't bear the weight of the helmet on his head, or the way it covered his face like a shroud, so it sat beside him, splattered with blood and gazing at him mockingly. Next to it was the phone the suited fuck had been using. While he couldn't ascertain the identity of the caller, he knew where the call had come from, and that was enough.

The fingers holding his cigarette were caked in blood and he stared at them dully as he waited. He had more or less left a calling card down in the bloodbath below; for those who knew what they were looking for, anyway.

As if on cue, the rooftop door opened, almost silent, despite years of rust. Officer of the Law, Dick-face Grayson, stepped out, whisper-quiet in his regulation shoes.

"What the hell happened down there?" Dick asked, without preamble. His face was a little pale in the faint light but his voice was very even. Remarkably calm, considering the state of some of the bodies. Not to mention the two dead kids.

Jason took a final drag on his cigarette and flicked it at Dick. A ridiculous gesture, especially as he would have to pick it up before he left, but sometimes pettiness was all he had.

Dick ignored it, waiting.

"You have a leak, is what happened," Jason gritted out finally. "They got a call from the precinct, before your raid even left the damn station. Then they murdered the hostages while I just sat on my ass, planning my next move." He bit his tongue. Dick had no right to see his grief, or the churning self-hatred for the consequences of his own failure.

Dick saw it anyway of course, or perhaps tasted his own bitter. He shut his eyes briefly, a small, strained grimace on his face as though it was him watching and re-watching those kids being shot every time he blinked.

Jason lit another cigarette. "What no lecture? No self-righteous speech about killing?"

"Not tonight. You know it all already, anyway."

Dick really chose his damn moments for compassion. The scene downstairs must have disturbed him, but his face was almost as impassive as the killers. Jason winced away from the thought. "So you just going to stare at me all night?"

Dick shrugged and sunk gracefully to the cold cement rooftop, heedless of the bird shit he was no doubt getting on his nicely pressed pants. He looked at Jason, earnestly. "You didn't leave us much to go on, Jay. What did they give up before they died?"

"Nothing," Jason lied. "I didn't kill them for info, I did it because they deserved it."

Dick stared at him hard, unblinking and Jason resisted the urge to squirm. They _had_ deserved it. But despite what he would like people to think, Jason did not like to make people suffer unnecessarily. When the medical examiner checked the bodies later, they would see how much damage had been carried out post mortem. Not just a result of Jason's rage – but a handy way to terrify the living into spilling their guts.

"Jason," Dick said, finally - and _there_ was his lecturing Nightwing tone. "This case is huge, it involves law enforcement from three different countries and we are so close to cracking it. You need to back off."

"Yeah, you're doing so well. You didn't just watch two kids get their heads blown off. Because of a fucking _leak_ , Dick." Jason realized they were both on their feet and he had Dick up against the wall. Dick wasn't fighting him though, just holding his arms lightly.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm close to plugging it."

"Close doesn't cut it!" Jason tried to ignore the pain on Dick's face. This epic clusterfuck must have been hurting him too. They were both feeling responsible, but where Dick turned his feelings inward, Jason knew he had a tendency to lash out. He tried to hold it back somewhat, and his body trembled with the effort of not throwing a punch. "You and your cop buddies don't get to tell me how to do my damn job, Dick, not after this. You want information? Go fucking find it, _pig_."

And Jason had walked away. Surprisingly, Dick let him, watching with an unreadable expression on his face.

A week later, Jason was on route to Santa Prisca.

2.

The reason the gang was so successful, was the fact it was so widely spread – spanning Europe, the US and areas of South America. It was an uneasy mix of the cartels calculated brutality and the casual opportunism of street gangs. Jason had considered traveling to the suspected base in Europe but changed his mind at the last moment. The kids had been from Santa Prisca, and they deserved to be avenged. He wanted to find their families too, tell them that justice had been done.

He set up in the popular tourist side of the island; nice hotels, truly spectacular eateries, sleazy bars and lots of opportunity to dig up illicit dirt. There he made some discreet inquiries that led him towards the island's central district. It had suffered greatly during the drug wars of the late nineties, and was still re-establishing itself. Part of ZK12 was based there, their supplies hidden in the dense jungles.

Jason made sure he was well kitted out on this trip – he had weapons obviously, and what amounted to a portable science lab. They had been saturating the market with new drugs and Jason needed to be able to test and identify them if any of the people he hoped to rescue were dosed. And, of course, he had enough stuff to make a lot of things go boom. Always his favorite part of the job.

It was surprisingly easy to get the lead that took him to the old concrete house, half way into the jungle and high above the mountain river. This was supposed to be recon only, and as the jungle was thin here he had hired a bike with thick tires, good for the terrain. He parked it well clear of the main road, and travelled the rest of the way on foot.

It was a hard climb, but clear of any sign of people. In fact it was all a little too easy, and Jason was cautious as he stepped over the threshold. The house appeared deserted, the leaves, rubble and jungle dirt covering the floor seemed undisturbed, but something about it was pinging his senses. Perhaps it was the fact it was _too_ untouched, no sign of animal activity, despite the open door. He paused, carefully reassessing.

Then there was an incredible blast from the floor, so strong, it knocked him clear off his feet. He fell backwards, and a second blast hit him harder, no longer insulated by the rubber soles of his boots. The whole damn floor was wired up. The third shock was stronger still and nearly blew his head off as it overrode his own suits defences and sparked the detonator in his helmet. He just about got the thing off in time, spinning it away from him across the floor. He groped for his gun but he was too disorientated.

Then he felt something strike his unprotected neck and as the drugs hit his system he realized he was well and truly screwed.

When he came to, he was still fuzzy headed. And a man was taking his mask off none to gently. Jason struggled against his bonds - it didn't really matter if they saw his face, but it was annoying and kind of embarrassing.

One of the men slapped him casually, making the one pulling his mask off grumble as he was jostled. Jason allowed his head to loll, taking in his new surroundings. He was upstairs he guessed and tied to a chair, and behind him were windows, built to take in the view of the river and the sweeping landscape. One of them was open, and if Jason tipped his head back he could feel the cool, damp air on his skin, and see a splash of moonlight.

"Give him a shot of the good stuff, before we question him," the man said.

Jason's mind swum away from him again with the prick of a needle against his skin.

It was later. Probably.

Jason's head was hanging down and his hair was falling over his forehead in sweaty curls. He hated that.

He watched moon shadows dance across the floor and wondered if it was tomorrow or if it was still yesterday? The hair situation was really annoying him, so he tried to lift an arm to brush it away from his face. He was upset when he couldn't, and Jason scowled fiercely. He tried to figure out why his arms weren't working and after some twitching he realized his hands were bound behind him. That wouldn't do at all, so he started to attempt to free himself. His mind seemed a little foggy, and he kept getting distracted by leaves and light, but his hands seemed to know what they were doing so he left them to it and watched a lovely plant sway in the slight breeze from the open window.

It was really pretty.

Then the door slammed open startling him and his hands. He did manage to pick his head up, though. And blink in awe at the woman who strode into the room and pointed her gun at him.

"Santa Prisca police!" she said in English. She swung her gaze and her gun from one shadowy corner to the other with cool professionalism.

Jason's head hung forward again and he struggled to gather his thoughts. There was something he should say here. Something important. He squinted at the woman, trying to focus. She was approaching middle age, with striking features and a practical, tight bun restraining her dark hair. The expression on her face promised murder.

She was even prettier than the plant.

The woman turned back towards the door. "Clear. It's just your friend, Grayson. He doesn't look in a good way."

Grayson. He was prettier than the plant too. Jason shook his head again. There was something more important going on than who was more attractive than foliage. He just had to concentrate.

Then there was a thunderous looking Dick Grayson himself, dressed in tac gear and clearly pissed off. The sight made Jason feel pleased for some reason. But then he noticed the gun in Dick's hand. The fog in his mind had receded a little, but the sight of Dick holding a gun like a professional, like he was comfortable with it, was still fucking bizarre.

And a little hot, but whatever.

"He's not my friend," Dick said acidly. "He's a PI in way, way over his head."

A PI. Good explanation, Dick! Jason nodded approvingly. His hair bounced against his face again and he tried unsuccessfully to blow it away.

"Who ever he is," the woman said, "his presence meant we moved too early. ZK12 have gone."

ZK12. That was why Jason was here. Tied to a chair – although he was almost loose, well done hands! He must look like such a dumbass for getting caught, but he didn't really mind. Everything felt a bit floofy, like poodle fluff. And anyway, nobody could have anticipated the clever trap they had set for him, so they could ask him questions about stuff he didn't actually know the answers to.

He looked at the gravel covered cement floor. That trap had hurt like a bitch, and then they had hurt him more and tied him to a chair with hair in his eyes.

Things were swimming into focus, but slowly.

The trap hadn't been for him, it had been for the cops, that had been obvious during questioning. And now the cops were here.

That was bad.

He tried to tell them, but his words got a bit tangled and all that came out was; "Floor!"

"Ruiz, it's a trap!" Dick shouted, catching on despite Jason's lack of coherent explanation.

But it was too late. The electricity knocked the pair of them off their feet, guns skittering across the floor. Unaffected, Jason struggled, trying to shake off his bonds and the fog in his mind.

"Don't bother, asshole," a voice said. The accent was American, and Jason vaguely recognized the man who strolled into the center of the room. Other armed men were emerging from a hidden door behind him.

They were so fucked, and Jason couldn't understand quite how it had happened.

The woman, Ruiz, was still out cold, blood trickling from a wound to her forehead, probably from striking it during a convulsion. Dick meanwhile, was shaking it off, fingers edging clumsily towards his gun. Jason could tell him from experience, it wasn't going to fade quickly.

The surrounding thugs knew it too and they ignored Dick's twitching. The lead guy looked pleased with his catch and kicked the woman over onto her back, peering down at her smugly. His predatory expression made Jason want to kill him, right there and then, even through the fog of poodle fluff. When the guy turned the same look on Dick, Jason's rage was almost apocalyptic. Nothing like anger to bring his brain back online.

"Two little piggies in my net," the man said.

Jason struggled for his name. Cadwell? Caldwell? That sounded right . He knew him, had maybe read about him in some file or other. If his mind were clear he would remember all the details but, as it was, he was struggling not to get distracted by the images of pigs swimming around in his head.

Caldwell kicked at Dick, turning him over the same way he had Ruiz. Dick sprawled, groaning. His hand stayed near his fallen gun. God, if Dick was half as functional as Jason hoped he was, they might survive this crap storm.

One of the other men stepped forward, gun pointed at Dick's head. "We only need one of these shits, right? Shall I shoot this one?"

"No," Caldwell smirked. "We do only need one, but the other we can use to show those FBI bastards we mean business. We can flip a coin which lives and which dies – or let them fight it out."

The other men laughed. Then Caldwell turned towards Jason, whose hands had done some stellar work and were a mere moment away from breaking themselves free.

Less than a minute, maybe thirty seconds. It wasn't enough.

"You can shoot the cape though. Enough trouble with these fucks in the States," Caldwell said, dismissively. The guy with the gun grinned at Jason nastily and started to bring his gun up.

"No!" Dick shouted, and lunged for his gun.

Jason ripped a hand free, far too fucking late, _oh my god_ he was going to die in this stupid place with the stunning fucking view and the electric fucking floor and a brain full of _nonsense_.

There were three guns swinging towards him pointing at his head, Jason was seeing it all in slow motion. He held up a hand helplessly, he didn't even have the coordination to try to tip the chair over to gain himself an extra few seconds.

But it turned out he wasn't the only one who was too slow, the thugs guns were still coming up level with his head when the first shot fired.

The impact struck him in the chest and the chair toppled back, Jason just caught sight of Dick's wide eyes and his police issue gun, aimed for Jason's shoulder before Dick fired again. Bang on target – the impact slammed Jason bodily against the windows, twisting him so the corner of the chair hit first, shattering the glass.

The window gave, and for a moment Jason was staring at the sky, the moon looking down at him like it was as shocked as he was. And then he was falling. Breathless from the bullets caught in the body armor he was still wearing.

He heard more gunfire but couldn't see anything as he fell, glass, chair and all, ass over elbow until he hit the fast moving running river below.

3.

The cold of the water and the wild overdose of adrenaline cleared his fuzzy head quickly - that, and the imminent threat of drowning. He having just survived something he had felt was going to kill him for sure and he was not going to die because of a damn river. He struggled loose from the chair, and the water took it away. Then the river buffeted and tore at him, stripping him down, and tugging him away from the house.

He didn't fight the current, and spun himself sideways towards the bank, until he was able to make a grab at overhanging plants on the bank. Then he dragged his aching body out the river, alive and gasping.

And fucking furious.

He lay for a while and struggled for breath, letting his exhausted body rest for a moment. Then he heaved himself up and checked his gear – not good. Most of his stuff was merrily carrying on the journey towards the sea. He had to get his shit together quickly and rescue Dick. The bastard had saved his damn life.

It took him most of a day, twelve freaking hours, to hobble back to town. Another three hours to puke up half the river, get cleaned up and recovered enough to function, and to scavenge what gear he could.

Those drugs took no prisoners. And if they gave them to Dick, as no doubt they would, then he was going to be as helpless as Jason had been. The bruises on Jason's skin were mottled and ugly, and his chest and shoulder pained him where he had been shot. The ache and throb of it was like a beating drum, counting down the moments, reminding him that every second lost made Dick's death more likely.

It wasn't often Jason asked for help – he didn't trust the cops on a good day, but the fact ZK12 had clearly infiltrated them, meant they were out of the damn question on this occasion. But the Bats might be a possibility, as much as it galled him. Dick's life was on the line and Jason himself was a bruised and battered mess and missing half his gear.

But a quick check of his burner phone found multiple calls for aid from _him._ A peak at the news revealed Gotham appeared to be on fire, and there was no help coming from that quarter.

So he packed up what he could, and headed back into the jungle.

Twenty hours since he fell into the river and he was back in the bunker. This time forewarned about the traps he was a lot more careful. The place was deserted though, and he made his way upstairs to the room with the broken window. The floor was blood-stained and Jason felt his heart race with sudden fear. Had the gunshots he had heard been them executing Dick? He had to stop and gather his thoughts. There were two smears of blood, one small, where Ruiz had banged her head, and one larger, _much_ larger, where Dick had been laying.

Jason knelt and examined it. There was not enough blood for it to have been a fatal bleed, but it was enough to be concerning. The bullet was still in the floor, crumpled against the cement. At least it was a through-and-through.

Jason followed the blood trail toward the hidden door the men had been hiding behind. He picked it and entered a surprisingly large room. There were computers and security system set up, but all switched off and deserted. He followed to drips of Dick's blood down to the garage, there the droplets stopped. They had taken their prisoners further into the jungle by car.

Jason allowed himself a moment of panic, followed by one of rage. Then he carefully collected himself and went back up the stairs to tear the room apart determined to find some clue of where they had gone.

4.

It took a total of three days to track Dick down. Three damn days.

He was being held separately from Ruiz, and with a lot less security. Probably because he was injured. Jason lay in wait, watching, even though it chafed him - he couldn't afford to fuck this up. This place really was a bunker, and according to the plans he had seen it led underground for quite a way. It was probably built in the 60's or 70's and was one of the places Jason had scoped out while still in Gotham. The only bit of luck he'd had.

The guards were well trained and fairly disciplined, but they clearly were not expecting an attack. All there efforts were on Ruiz, and the police force trying to find her. It didn't take Jason more than a few hours of observation before he was able to move.

He didn't take prisoners, and instead slit the throats of the any unlucky guards he came across, collecting weapons, radios and anything else he could on the way. He killed the electrics as he went too, counting his steps so he could find his way back through the dark.

Five men down and he found the passageway he was looking for. As he approached, he found that he was terrified of what he would discover. Why was there such a small number of guards here? Was he too late? Had he made a mistake? Was this the wrong place?

Jason's fingers were trembling with rage and fear by the time he typed in the code of the steel door to the holding room. He had to steady himself, breathe deep and fall into the zone. A trick Bruce had taught him: later other people had trained similar behaviors into him, but with a more lethal edge.

He released a breath, and typed the next set of numbers. He was acutely aware of every sound, the drip of water from the damp ceiling, the wet grind of his boots on the puddle covered gravel of the hallway. The lack of any noise from within the room he was trying to enter.

Last sequence. These fucks had not taken any chances when setting up this holding cell – hopefully that was the reason they hadn't bothered leaving more than a handful of men to guard it. Of course this room had been made to hold hard-core criminals, not lowly cops like Officer Grayson. Dick should have been able to escape.

But he hadn't.

Jason's heat pounded in fearful anticipation as he swung open the door. The room was dark, only partially illuminated by the torch clenched in Jason's teeth. He grabbed it and swung it quickly around the room. For a moment he was afraid he did have the wrong place; there was a small pile of garbage in one corner, a dirty mattress and broken cabinet in another and not much else. Everywhere was damp and dripping cold water and puddles on the floor reflected the light, making it spin in Jason's vision.

It took a second sweep to spot Dick, wedged between the mattress and the wall. Jason was by his side in an instant. He was breathing, hot to the touch and definitely alive. He was dressed only in a loose pair of sweatpants, although those were dank and soaked though.

His hands were bound and cuffed to the wall above his head, but there was plenty of room to maneuver. The cuffs were nothing special. Dick should have been able to break free. Jason had him loose in moments and gave him a quick once over, first feeling his pulse, which was strong but rapid, and then searching for any obvious wounds or breaks.

He found the bullet wound quickly, on the lower thigh. It hadn't hit bone and it had been wrapped, but he couldn't be sure how well it had been cleaned until they got out. As well as that, there was clear evidence of torture. Burns and bruises on Dick's exposed skin and, more telling, small puckered needle marks on his arms and neck. That might explain his inertia, and possibly his other symptoms. He hoped it was that and not infection, that could make things complicated.

This far from home, and without Bruce or his equipment, having a sample of whatever they had used on him might be essential. Jason wasted a precious second or two debating with himself: was it worth the risk of taking the time to search?

He decided he had to chance it. If Dick had been given too much, Jason might have to synthesis an antidote on the move. He was good at that side of things, but he preferred to have a damn lab and computers to work with. Still, better he had something to actually test.

He started a careful but quick examination of the mattress. There was a cup of water and some tubing with a sludgy substance in it – a feeding tube perhaps, Jesus, if he was so out of it he had to be force fed then Jason was definitely doing the right thing. He took a sample, in case there was any other substance in the food. He moved quickly on, There were cigarette butts on the floor and he scooped them into a baggy. DNA evidence for later – and he was damn sure some of these had been stubbed out against Dick's skin.

The pile of garbage in the corner by the door yielded what he was looking for. A hypodermic with traces of a liquid still inside.

He also found three used condoms. He stared at them. There were other explanations rather than the obvious. There _were_. He had to fight down the spiral of rage and grief and guilt that rose into his throat and burned there like bile. He couldn't afford to lose his shit over this, not until they were out and safe.

He had to remember there might be another explanation.

Right.

He scooped them up into baggies too. If they contained Dick's DNA then he was going to find whoever had done this and they were going to wish they had never been born. There would be no quick death for them.

Still shaking, he went back to Dick who was still unresponsive, lying where Jason had left him. Jason gently lifted him – the guy was heavier than he looked. Thankfully, adrenaline could easily overcome Jason's fatigue and he slid carefully out into the hallway. He flicked off the torch, leaving the damp corridors completely black, and walked forward, counting his steps as his shoulder touched the grimy wall for guidance.

He should have slung Dick over his shoulders, but he couldn't bring himself to, and instead clutched him to his chest, bridal style. He couldn't shoot like this, but his best defense was the dark that covered them and the drip drip of the water that helped muffle the scuff of his boots.

They slipped easily out of the tunnels and back into the forest. The guard Jason had killed earlier had not been replaced, so they had what looked like a small head start. The next problem was going to be the bike. It was over a mile away through thick jungle. He had planned for Dick to be wounded though, and had scoped out good hiding spots, places they could conceal themselves long enough for Jason to perform any medical tasks he could and to run some minor tests on the drugs in Dick's system. Then he would go and fetch the bike.

5.

The spot he had chosen was a small enclave behind a waterfall from one of the small tributaries that led to the river that had both saved him and nearly killed him days earlier. It provided the necessary cover and enough space to do what he needed. Not to mention the supply of running water.

Dawn was starting to break through the trees, giving Jason enough light to see as he stripped Dick out of his sweats. First priority was to check the bullet wound and try to get some fluids into him. Thankfully the Bat issued first aid kits came with an alarming amount of options and he was able to set up a small IV while he dealt with the wound. It had been cauterized with the flat of a blade, which had stopped the bleeding, but not the infection already in the blood. Jason cursed to himself under his breath, this was the sort of complication he had been hoping to avoid - already weakened by the drugs, this could end up being pretty serious if he didn't act soon.

He cleaned what he could, and carefully steered his mind away from the thought of internal injuries he could do nothing about and the location of some of the bruises on Dick's body. He couldn't think about it now, it would be too damn distracting and Dick was relying on him to get them out of this mess.

Later, when they were safe, he would deal with it.

Dick's eyes were starting to move behind his closed lids, which Jason chose to interpret as a good sign, so he started to set up with his portable drug kit. It was important he check for the presence of some components in the drugs before he administered any medicine of his own.

Finding the hypodermic was a real stroke of luck, it seemed some of the substances were already working there way out of Dick's system and having access to an uncorrupted sample was essential.

He was so absorbed in his final tests he completely missed the point Dick woke up. He was brought up to speed though, when Dick's heel caught him square in the face. It was weak and uncoordinated, but even so it made him reel back and threw him off balance, allowing Dick to hook an ankle around his neck and Jason had to move damn fast to avoid a choke hold.

People were probably hunting them out in the jungle and they couldn't afford to be loud, and although Jason didn't want to pin him there wasn't much choice when he was struggling. They wrestled for a moment, and Dick's strength was surprising considering how drained and confused he must be, but Jason assumed it must be fueled by desperation. It was no where near full his capabilities though, and Jason was able to maneuver himself and pin Dick down, one hand over his mouth. Beneath him, Dick's chest heaved and his muscles bunched and tensed ready to carry on fighting. His eyes were wide and unseeing. The sight made Jason's heart clench.

"Dickie, it's Jason," he tried. "You're free, it's just us. Stand down." Jason surprised himself using that particular pet name. It wasn't one he ever used himself, but he had heard Dick's friends use it on occasion, so perhaps it would lend its own small comfort.

Dick shut his eyes and stopped struggling, but there was still a coiled tension in his body, radiating up and into Jason's own.

"Blink if you're with me, Dickie and I'll let you go, OK?"

Dick blinked.

Jason released him, giving him as much space as the cave allowed. Dick scrabbled back until he hit the wall, head down and knees clutched to his chest. Jason gave him a moment, but he needed to get some meds into him, so he couldn't wait too long. He needed to get him warm and dry too, there was a thin sheen of sweat on his body, from panic, exertion or the infection.

And he probably wanted some pants.

"I got some clean stuff for you here, Dickie. It's not much but it's dry," he said, keeping his voice neutral. "You need a shot or two as well I'm afraid."

Dick shuddered, but held out a hand for the clothes Jason pulled out of his pack. He didn't dress immediately though, instead he carefully examined himself, testing bruises with fingers and flexing his muscles, checking for injuries that might hinder him in someway. It was what they had been trained to do, but Jason couldn't help cataloguing every twitch or wince out of the corner of his eye, despite his efforts to keep himself busy until Dick was dressed, if only to give him the illusion of space.

"Are you OK?" Jason asked, after a moment. A fucking stupid question, but one he couldn't seem to stop himself asking.

Dick wet his lips, "Yeah," he croaked. His voice was hoarse from disuse.

Jason handed him some water, feeling horribly awkward. "You want to give the shots to yourself, or shall I do it?" he asked.

"You do it. What ever they gave me has given me the shakes," Dick rasped, holding out a trembling arm.

Jason slid closer and prepared the shot. "It should wear off soon. The shakes, I mean. But you need these antibiotics, and I don't think we can risk painkillers."

Dick grunted. He didn't flinch when Jason took his arm, and instead rubbed the fingers of his other hand across his face, like it pained him. "Where's Ruiz?" he asked, after a moment.

"They're holding her elsewhere," Jason told him, reluctantly. He wished they had been together, so he could have got her out too. "I figure our best bet is to head back to town and try to get help for her."

"No, we get her _now_." Dick said, and despite the rasp of his voice, it was the no nonsense tone he used when he meant business – the one that promised if you hurt one of his, he would kick your ass from here into next week.

This was going to be a problem, not least because it was Jason's instinct too. "You need medical treatment, and I'm running on nothing but angst and rage," he reasoned. "We're in no fit state to stage a rescue."

Dick looked at him straight in the eye for the first time since he woke up, and Jason knew he had just lost the damn argument.

" _No_ , we go now, " Dick insisted, "We are not letting them keep her a second longer than he have to." His lower jaw jutted out in his most obstinate facial expression. "We've faced worse odds."

That was true, but Jason was also aware that an attempt at a rescue could put Dick back into their hands. Hell, it could put _him_ back into their hands too, drugged and helpless. The thought terrified him in a way it hadn't in the aftermath of his dip in the river, but the idea of abandoning Ruiz to a similar fate was almost too abhorrent to contemplate. It didn't matter that he didn't know the woman, he would want to rescue any victim in that situation and leaving anyone behind would be a decision he would regret for the rest of his life.

He wrestled with the conflicting feelings for a moment; his desire to protect Dick, his need to rescue Ruiz, and his own shameful fear.

"You don't have to come," Dick said stubbornly, "just give me your info and I'll go myself."

There wasn't really going to be a choice it seemed and Jason rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Like I would leave you to get captured again, or shot." He let out an obnoxious, put-upon sigh. "Fine, we'll go after Ruiz, but we have to go smart. Because neither of us is in any kind of shape to be doing this crap right now."

"Smarts good," Dick said, giving Jason a wan smile. "Thanks, Jay."

"Don't thank me. I think this is a dumb fucking idea, and it's likely to get us both killed, and if I had any sense at all I would just sling your sorry ass over my shoulder and get us the hell out of here. But it turns out I'm just as stupid as you are."

"Don't sell yourself short, Jay, you're at least twenty percent stupider than me."

Jason couldn't help the flush of relieved warmth that went through him hearing Dick sassing him. It felt like a lifeline of normality. "Kept telling yourself that, Dick-Face," he said, warmly.

Dick smiled at him again, this time with a bit more humor. "Can we get some help do you think?" he asked. "I would hate for us to get killed when we could just get Superman to do it for us."

Jason smirked, but it was a somewhat forced expression. "It's Christmas time, Dickie. You know what that means."

Dick sighed. "The world is burning."

"Yup. Literally in Gotham's case. And the Justice Morons are dealing with the yearly invasion of brain eating space aliens over in Europe."

"We're on our own then," Dick said. He rubbed at his wrists where the cuffs had been, rotating the joints carefully. His voice was almost back to normal but he looked grim.

"Yup," Jason said, and started to unpack his kit. "This is what we have. I got some gear from the guys I took out when I came to get you, but even so, we're running low for this kind of crazy mission."

Dick nodded, "Help would be better. But we don't have time to wait for someone to get here even if they're not all busy heroing-"

"That's not a word," Jason felt compelled to point out.

Dick ignored him. "– but we have to think about extraction too. We know fuck all about this jungle, other than it is large and full of assholes with guns."

"Yeah, that's an issue," Jason agreed. "One of many. Once we get Ruiz, we might end up just running in circles or something equally ridiculous."

Dick was eyeing up Jason's Wayne Tech tablet, which was his only surviving bit of technology. "That got connection?" he asked.

"Some, I mean we're in a cave in a jungle so the regular webs are out, but stuff B-man has set up should still be functioning."

Dick nodded, his brow furrowed in thought. "I know some channels, we could put a request in for help. If someone is in the area. Going to have to pay for it though."

"Pay?" Jason asked, "You mean hire a _mercenary_ to come save us? How'd we know they won't just hold us to ransom?"

"Because then they would never get work again. I can use Bruce's account, offer enough money to make it worth while to get us out alive."

Jason frowned. The idea had merit, but at the same time it had some glaring flaws. "We do run the risk of bumping into familiar faces if we do that," he said after a moment.

Dick nodded and grimaced. "That's true, but except for one or two, they won't know us as civilians. And they will be professional, if there is enough cash riding on it. Not to mention reputation and personal pride."

"And if it's the 'one or two' that turn up?"

"We will just have to hope we get lucky." Dick was already typing into the tablet, overriding Jason's passwords and protections with embarrassing ease.

"Right, because we have been so super lucky so far," Jason grumbled. "When you're done trying to get us murdered by professional hitmen, there are a bunch of blue prints and information on there. You might want to go over it."

"You're a star, Jaybird," Dick said without looking up from the screen.

"I know, I'm amazing. While you catch up on your reading, maybe I will go out and-"

"-Sleep," Dick interrupted him.

"Say what?"

"You said you were running on nothing but rage. You need to sleep; we have a few hours before we can move, and you've got to keep your energy up."

"What about you? You're the one who got shot, and you are running a low grade fever – you should rest too."

I will, in a bit. But I've done enough sleeping these past few days," he paused, and looked at Jason from the corner of his eye, his lashes sweeping down against his bruised cheek. "I need to feel like I'm doing something right now. But I will rest up in a bit, I'll wake you."

Don't overdo it, ok Dickie? Make sure you wake me, if you haven't slept, then I'm not leaving and you will have to crawl to where they're holding Ruiz, because you're not walking miles alone on that leg."

Jason wasn't joking, but Dick smiled at him anyway. "I promise to wake you in time to take my own fortifying nap – now go to sleep before you fall down."

Jason grunted and lay on the hard floor. He didn't think his mind would let him rest; it was so full of tumultuous thoughts and fear. But his body's exhaustion was such that he felt himself being tugged down towards sleep in spite of himself. He drifted off while watching Dick as he looked at the tablet, the blue light reflecting on his face like a mask.


	2. Chapter 2

Fourteen hours later saw them scoping out the bunker holding Ruiz. Lying in the undergrowth and watching through night vision goggles they argued extensively about the best options to gain entry. Between them, they had eventually figured out the only possible way to infiltrate the building when they were low on pretty much everything, and one of them was running a fever and could barely walk.

But hey, they had faced worse odds. Apparently one year Dick had gone into Blackgate alone, while suffering from the flu and he had come out okay. Although he could actually walk unaided on that occasion, which had probably helped.

But they were committed to this madness, so they had to make sure they did everything right – there wasn't going to be another chance.

The plan was pretty simple and involved relying on far more luck than Jason was comfortable with. Each of these outposts had a command center, a hub where all the surveillance equipment was. It could be manned by two to four people and from there, the guards and gang members could be directed toward any threat. If they could get Dick in there, he could guide Jason to Ruiz and simultaneously send the guards to the opposite side of the compound. Then Jason and Ruiz, who hopefully could walk under her own power, would fetch Dick and they would escape into the jungle. Simple.

If they survived that, then they would head for the rendezvous point, where maybe they would get picked up by a friendly Merc, or maybe get shot to death, depending.

Just to be clear, Jason _hated_ this plan. Even though he had helped come up with it.

They intended to take the electrics out, using the dark to improve their chances. As Jason had lost his helmet and his mask to the gang, and his high spec night vision goggles to the river, they only had his lightweight emergency spare to work with. They both needed to have at least a little night vision for their separate tasks, so they carefully cut free one of the lenses for Dick, and Jason wore the other one as it was intended. Only using one eye to shoot was risky so he planned to use a flashlight where ever possible. They had rigged up the second lens for Dick using a combination of fast drying glue from Jason's kit and the elastic from his boxers. Never let it be said they weren't experts in improvisation. Dick seemed extremely amused to be wearing a part of Jason's underwear on his head.

Jason would never understand that guy as long as he lived.

The first stage went surprisingly well, despite a minor spat on the merits of murdering the guards, versus just incapacitating them. Jason reluctantly capitulated to avoid stressing Dick out further, although his terms had rather a lot of scope – he promised he wouldn't kill during _this_ operation, unless it was necessary to save a life – that could give him a little wiggle room and left plenty of space for coming back and annihilating the whole fucking lot of them after he got Dick and Ruiz out safely.

They made the command center with little trouble – a fact that made Jason nervous; the theme for this whole mission had been that if it's too easy, then disaster is sure to follow.

Mostly Jason was concerned about leaving Dick when he was barely mobile.

The infection, while having been slowed by the antibiotics was both painful and weakening - to the point where he could hardly go two paces without needing to lean on Jason. The added pressure on the wound from attempting to walk was causing enough discomfort that Dick was sweating profusely, his face set in a grimace.

But his options were to leave Dick, or try to carry him down the dark corridor to wherever they were keeping Ruiz, and that was not going to happen. It didn't mean he was happy about it though.

He adjusted his earpiece. At least they had comms. Who knows what they would have had to construct if they hadn't?

"Dickie-Bird to Jay-Bird," Dick said over the line. "Do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, asshole. Now shut up," Jason muttered, making his way carefully down the dark passageway.

Dick directed him, using the plans he had on the tablet, and the security cameras. There were a few tense moments when Jason had to crouch down and stay silent as guards ran past – directed towards a fake disturbance elsewhere – but otherwise the plan went smoothly.

There were two guards on the door to the cell they hoped Ruiz was being held in, and Jason thought he did an admirable job of not killing them. Although he hit them hard enough to cause permanent brain damage, Dick didn't say anything over the comm line – maybe he didn't realize, or maybe he didn't care. Jason wasn't sure which option he preferred.

"I opened the electronic lock," Dick said, over the line. "You just have to pick the regular one."

Jason examined it closely. It was sturdy, but he had picked worse locks when he was barely out of kindergarten.

"Once you're inside I won't have a visual, so keep me in the loop, OK?"

"Yes, boss." Jason muttered back, as he slid his second pic into place. "It's not like I haven't done this before, you know."

"Well normally I get to _be_ there, not stuck in a dark room with computers and trash everywhere. Although this swivel chair is super nice, a proper ergonomic office chair like the ones Tim ordered when he was playing CEO at Wayne Enterprises."

"I know you like to flap your mouth when you're feeling anxious, but some of us are concentrating."

"Whatever. You can pick locks in your sleep, you're just being difficult. Do you think they ordered this chair in specially? Like, does one of the bad guys have a bad back or carpal tunnel or something, so needed some extra support?"

Jason ignored him, although he could feel his face trying to smile. He ruthlessly tried to stop it though, he had to at least pretend to still have some dignity.

"Do you think they ordered it from Ikea or somewhere? Or is there a special store for criminal underground bases -"

"I'm in," Jason interrupted, and Dick fell silent. Jason realized he was probably worried about what Jason might find behind that door. Was Ruiz alive? Had she been tortured? Was she mobile? Their chances of escaping this place fell dramatically if she wasn't. "I'll bring her out," he said, with more confidence than he felt.

He opened the door slowly. The room was dark, but the light from his torch illuminated a similar set up to Dick's cell. A broken chair was propped against one wall and a mattress lay on the floor. Cuffs hung from the wall and Jason's senses pinged with alarm before he even finished registering something wasn't right.

He dodged down and away as he sensed movement to his left and narrowly missed being brained by a chair leg. Ruiz swung again, and he caught the blow on his upraised arm. The impact made him stumble and drop his flashlight, but he managed to catch her before she could go for his face again.

"Ruiz, stop! It's Grayson's PI friend, I've come to get you out!"

She stopped struggling but he could feel her muscles still tense and ready to fight. He moved them slightly, so the light from his fallen torch caught his features.

Her breathing was harsh in the sudden quiet. "What's you name?" she asked, finally.

"Jason. I'm going to let you go - don't clobber me." He stepped back, and she moved away, chair leg still upraised, clutched in her hand. Her knuckles were bruised; this wasn't the first time she had tried to fight her way out.

They looked at each other for a moment, her assessing him; searching his face and quickly skimming over his weird get up – the patchwork of weapons and gear he had on was definitely not the same as the guards and gang members in this place, who appeared to be something of a paramilitary unit.

In turn he gave her a quick visual check for injuries and obvious signs of drugs. She seemed mobile and her eyes were clear so it appeared they hadn't bothered to incapacitate her like they had Dick. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.

"Why did you come back for me?" She asked, suddenly. "Where's Grayson? He was shot."

"Yeah, I know. He's alright, for now." The comms were open, and Jason could hear Dick's breathing in his ear, a little fast with relief, a little heavy with pain, but still strong and comforting. "I got him out first, then we came back for you," Jason added, when she still looked skeptical.

"We? Even though he got shot?"

"Yeah, he's an idiot that way."

She nodded and rolled her eyes. It was a very: ' _I have had to work with Dick Grayson and he's a moron'_ expression _._ Dick seemed to cause a similar series of facial tics and eye rolls where ever he had to spend time with people in a professional capacity. It was weirdly endearing.

"You have a gun?" Ruiz asked, all business now.

"I got three."

"Give me one." She held out a hand. Her short fingernails were torn and bloody, and although he wasn't sure if that had happened when she attacked a person or liberated the chair leg, Jason was pretty certain her opponent had come off worse.

"You going to shoot me with it?" he asked. She didn't know him from Adam, and if he had been in her situation, he would be pretty cautious and a little trigger happy.

"Don't be a fool," she said, "I could never escape without help. And I'm not going to shoot my rescuer, it's bad manners."

Jason grinned and handed her his Ruger. He liked Ruiz, and the competent way she checked the gun over gave him confidence that she would provide decent back up for getting Dick out of this place safely.

Apparently finding the gun to her liking, she dropped the chair leg. Jason winced at the hollow echoing sound it made when it hit the stone floor.

"What was that?" Dick asked in his ear.

"Chair leg. We're heading back your way. We clear?"

"Yeah, for now. You might want to avoid the southwest corridor and take the longer route – there's a lot less activity in that direction."

"Understood," Jason glanced at Ruiz who was looking at him steadily.

"That Grayson?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's giving us directions."

Ruiz nodded. "Where are we going?" She asked quietly, as they slipped back into the dark corridor.

"We're heading towards the central command center to pick up Grayson. He's not especially mobile so we may have to do that literally."

" _Wonderful,_ " Ruiz said, and Jason smothered another grin, he could actually hear her eyes roll.

Their plan had been working beautifully. With Dick directing both the guards and Jason, they had avoided any confrontation. However their luck couldn't last. Because the universe just couldn't let him catch a fucking break.

As they turned the corner, the lights flickered on. Someone must have activated a backup generator not attached to the mains.

"Houston, we have a problem," Dick said.

Jason growled in response. They were so damn close. And this was supposed to be the _easy_ bit.

"The bad guys have caught on. You have three heading towards you from the northeast and another three already in front of you."

"They know where we are?" Jason asked, signaling Ruiz to pause. She did so, looking grim and determined.

"Not yet." Dick's voice was a little strained and there were clattering noises in the background.

"Dick, talk to me. What's happening?"

"They know they've been compromised. They have the command center surrounded, and are switching off my electrics one by one."

"Fuck!"

"Stop yelling in my ear!" Dick complained. "I may not be able to do any wild acrobatics, but I can deal with this. However, I've already lost my visual of you. You're on your own."

"Dick, you have a gun, for fuck sake, _use_ it if you have too."

"Jason-"

"No, Dick. I know you can - you shot me pretty good after all."

"Yeah sorry about that. Look, I'll use all the tools I have, Jay. Head for the exit, I'll catch you up."

Like hell that was happening. "Not a chance, Flyboy."

"Working with you is so annoying!" Dick had the nerve to sound exasperated.

Jason wanted to punch him. "Working with _me_ is annoying? _Me_? What about _you_?" He was aware his voice was rising, and had to consciously rein it in a bit.

"Can you please have this domestic another time?" Ruiz interjected, scowling at him in bemusement.

Jason ignored her. "We're coming to get you, and that's final!" he said, trying to keep his voice low.

"Jason, don't be such a stubborn -" And then there was nothing but static.

"Dick?" Jason's heart was pounding. He couldn't cope with going through this again so soon after the last time. His stress levels were through the damn roof. "Dick!" He wasn't really expecting an answer but the silence still felt raw and bitter. "We lost contact," he told Ruiz, gruffly.

"I heard. We going to go rescue him?" Ruiz asked. She looked scared and angry, and like she'd had more than enough of this shit.

"We're going to try." More rescues. How many were there going to be, before there was an end to this?

Ruiz nodded and fell into step behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Gunfire echoed down the passageways, but Jason kept his pace slow and careful – no use getting them all killed if he could help it. They were close to the command center now, only a few winding corridors away.

The scuff of a boot warned him of the ambush up ahead – they weren't the only ones who were being more cautious. Jason held out an arm and Ruiz obediently stopped. Her face looked grim in the dim lights of the generator. He pointed her to the opposite wall, and she went – it was so nice to work with someone who could take and understand orders.

How to break the ambush though? They had no cover except for the angle of the intersection, and between himself and Ruiz they had a very limited amount of ammo.

Jason crept as close as he dared, he couldn't risk looking around the corner, but without doing do he couldn't be sure if they were aware of him or not. If they were not, then surprise might be the only ace they had. But if they _did_ know, and were waiting with their fingers on their triggers, any attack would be short, pointless and probably fatal.

Jason kept quiet and listened. There was shuffling, tiny scuffs, the clink of weapons against belts. Then the crackle of a radio: "Situation contained," the barely audible, and tinny sounding voice said in Spanish.

Jason grit his teeth. Was the 'situation' Dick? And if so, what did contained mean?

"Can you get us a visual?" one of the guards replied in the same language.

"Negative, visual off line," the crackly voice replied. Then there was just more static.

"Dammit!" another voice said, this one in English, with an American accent - Jersey probably. "There could be dozens of them down here, why are we fighting blind? Lets get topside and then just smoke the bastards out."

"Shut up!" the first guy said, in English.

"I didn't sign on to get picked off like this!" Jersey said.

Jason guessed he was new to this game - the waiting and watching part seemed to be getting to him.

"Get back to your place or I will shoot you!" First guy didn't seem impressed, or like he was someone to be messed with.

"Fuck you!" Jersey replied loudly, and then stepped right out into Jason's line of sight. "Shit!" he shouted and raised his weapon.

Well, there went the element of surprise. Jason shot the guy between the eyes and was running back to the relative safety of the previous passage before the body had even hit the floor.

Gunfire ricocheted down the corridor behind him. Jason shot the occasional round, just to keep them from advancing, but in truth it was a only a matter of time until they were overwhelmed, and both sides knew it.

The men arranged themselves at the opposite end of their hiding place "You are surrounded!" first guy shouted, "come quietly and I'll let you live!"

"Fuck your living!" Ruiz yelled from behind Jason, "you come at us and I'm going to kill as many as I can before I go down!"

Jason nodded, and checked his ammo again. "Took the words right out of my mouth, Officer Ruiz." He raised his voice, "come get us, you shitheads!" Beside him he felt Ruiz tense and brace herself to shoot. She seemed like someone who knew what she was doing and Jason trusted her to know her business. They were out gunned, out numbered and out maneuvered. But like Ruiz said, if he was going to die here, he was going to take down as many of these fucks as he could.

"I only have a handful of bullets left," Ruiz whispered. "I assume you have similar issues?"

"Yeah. We can't hope to hold them off for long, not when they are so heavily armed. We might do best to save our bullets and see if we can get them to come to us."

"Pretend we have run out? Sounds like our only option."

They stopped shooting and waited. Time seemed to stretch, each breath Jason took sounded loud as a drum to his ears. A peak around the corner using the reflection in his blade, showed men creeping towards them, not long to wait now. He figured he could take out at least half of them, before one of them got a lucky shot.

Then they heard a strange clattering sound echoing up the corridor. It was hard to tell where it came from and Jason risked another quick glance at the approaching guards; they looked as confused as he was. They were starting to turn towards the sound when there was a sudden rapid shower of bullets, aimed low and striking a number of men in the legs and knees. Those that didn't fall in the first assault turned to return fire. Jason didn't know who was shooting, but they were his only chance.

"Cover me!" he shouted to Ruiz, and rolled into the center of the passageway, this might be their only hope and he was going to give it all he had. As Jason came out of his tumble he took aim and fired; all headshots - this totally counted as self-defense. He didn't see if he hit his intended targets as he was already moving, but he was aware of Ruiz in position behind him as he fetched up against the far wall.

The clattering intensified, and Dick-motherfucking-Grayson suddenly shot past the opening to the corridor. He was sitting on the damn swivel chair, travelling at an impressive speed and firing an Uzi at the rapidly dwindling guards.

Jason blinked. A very welcome, but also very strange sight. The chair notwithstanding, Dick firing a semi-automatic nearly short circuited Jason's brain. But it only startled him for a moment and he quickly shot at the fallen guards who looked like they might still be thinking of turning a weapon on them. Because of course Dick hadn't done the sensible thing and killed the fuckers, he had been shooting low, aiming at feet and lower legs. Stupid, impractical suicidal Bat training. Jason seriously wondered how Bruce would feel about one of his favored children getting killed for following the rules. When shooting to kill would have been the only option for survival. A part of him was morbidly curious; he wanted to see Bruce struggle with that.

But not at the expense of Dick's life, obviously.

He rushed back into the moment, his gun was almost out and he had to focus on the now, not on his damn Bruce Issues. Dick was still wearing his nightvision-underwear goggles, so Jason used two precious bullets to shoot out the lights, leaving them in darkness. The sound of groaning and screaming from the downed men became suddenly oppressive – even though they deserved to die, the sounds of suffering was always horrific to hear. He wondered how Dick felt having caused most of it. Sometimes death seemed cleaner.

Jason jumped as he felt Ruiz grab his sleeve. "Now I can't see!" she growled, there was no heat in it though, and Jason figured she could see the practical side of the darkness.

"Hold my belt," he told her, as he pulled what remained of his goggles down over his eye. Then he stepped forward, picking his way around the fallen men, Ruiz following close enough behind him that she trod on his heals a few times.

They reached Dick, still in his swivel chair without catching a stray bullet, which was Jason's main concern. Even through Jason's shitty night vision goggles Dick looked a state, he was sweating and bloody, and breathing a bit unsteadily. He had the nerve to grin at up at Jason when they approached.

"Hey, Jay," He said.

"Don't 'hey Jay' me, you asshole!" Jason bit out, letting all his fear flow out in a beautiful river of rage, "I thought you were fucking _dead_ , you piece of shit!"

"Sorry, I couldn't get the comms back online, I could only use the walkie-talkie I took off one of the men."

So it had been Dick telling them the situation was contained, clever but still infuriating. He opened his mouth to give him what for when Ruiz jabbed the muzzle of her empty gun into his back. "Can we do this _later_?" she asked, incredulous frustration coloring her voice.

"I'm so glad, you're alright," Dick told her, warmly, "I was really worried."

"Worried? Do not give me your 'worried', Grayson!" her grip on Jason's belt had tightened to the point of being uncomfortable and her gun was still digging into his back with her increasing frustration.

"I'm fine," Dick told her, apparently picking up on the source of her anger.

"You are not! And what was that? Do you think you are an action move hero?"

"My leg gave out, I didn't have much of a choice!"

"The leg you got shot in! Why did you come back, you fool!"

Jason surprised himself by laughing. "As much as I am enjoying Dick getting a tongue lashing, you had a point when you suggested we do this another time and get the hell out of dodge."

Ruiz made an aggravated noise but fell silent.

"Which way?" Jason asked.

"We should take the east corridor, it's longer but we just took out the group that was supposed to be covering it, so it might be safer."

Jason grabbed the back of the swivel chair, ready to push. "You know which direction east is? I'm so turned around I can't tell my ass from my elbow."

"Head to the left," Dick said, "I memorized the passageways, so I think I know where we are."

"You _think_?"

"Yeah, I _think._ I've been shot and tortured and I'm running a fever! I can't be completely sure!"

Ruiz made another aggravated noise, "My three year old has better concentration that you two!" she said, conveniently forgetting her own angry tirade minutes earlier. "Lets _move_."

"Why is everyone picking on me?" Dick complained, "I've been shot, you should be nice to me."

Jason ignored his attempt to lighten the mood, more concerned at the slight slur to Dick's words, so instead of answering he just grunted and started to push the chair. It made a lot of a noise on the concrete floor, but it was better than carrying Dick. Jason could feel his own body flagging. Too little sleep, too little food, too much action and too much adrenaline.

And the fear was still there. They had a long way to go before they found safety.

Despite the shitty odds, they made it back to the surface, but they stepped clear of the bunker with a mixed sense of relief and apprehension. The chair would no longer be of use to them, and Dick was not in good shape; walking was going to be a struggle. What's more, they could hear sounds of pursuit picking up behind them. Three wounded people plus a slightly battered swivel chair made pretty obvious tracks, and it would be very clear where they had entered the jungle.

Without being asked, Ruiz grabbed Dick's other arm and together she and Jason hauled him off his seat. He leaned his head against Jason's shoulder for a moment, before forcing himself up and putting as much weight as he could on his leg. He nodded and they started moving as fast as they could.

It was not very fast.

There was no way they were going make it anywhere close to the rendezvous point, that was immediately obvious. For a start, following the path was their only option, as hauling Dick through the undergrowth was not going to work. That meant that the bad guys would also have a nice clear trail to follow and could easily lay an ambush up ahead.

"Okay, Stop," Dick said, breaking into Jason's own thoughts. "This isn't going to work."

"Not much choice, Grayson" Ruiz growled, trying to tug him forward.

"There is. Hear me out," Dick said, as Jason opened his mouth to speak. "We go on like this they'll catch us. We can't reach help, and we can't fight them. We have to be smart if we want to live."

"I'm not going to like this am I?" Jason asked, already resigned. What ever it was, he was going to have to listen, as he was all out of other options.

"Probably not," Dick agreed, "but it's the only possible way I can see for us to all make it."

"Okay, hit me with your cunning plan, Dickie. I'm braced for impact."

"You're going to have to leave me-"

Jason was expecting that. "Nope, not happening."

"Yes, happening! I'm not asking you to leave me to die, I'm asking you to hide me and draw them away."

When put like that, Jason could see a glimmer of sense. "Go on."

"Lets find a spot with good cover, and I'll hide. They'll follow you, as you will be leaving tracks whether you want to or not. But with out me holding you back you can move faster, you can get off the path and outrun them. Then when you meet up with whoever has bought our contract, you can come back for me."

" _If_ anyone has bought our contract and _if_ it's not someone who will kill us on sight!" Jason said. But when it came down to it, Dick was right; this _was_ the only option where they could all come out alive. And it was one he would have insisted on if he were in Dick's position.

He didn't have to like it though.

"You can't be serious!" Ruiz burst out, suddenly, "you come back for me, a stranger, but then abandon your friend? I won't do it!"

"I don't think I can make it alone if we're ambushed" Jason said reluctantly. He could move faster, sure, but if they were attacked having Ruiz and her extra few bullets might be essential. Leaving her with Dick served no useful purpose. "This is the best way. I don't like it any more than you do, but I know Dick, he can do this."

Dick nodded, his bruised face looking so earnest it made Jason slightly queasy. But under that expression there was Nightwing's steely determination.

Dick reached out and touched Ruiz on the arm, forcing her attention away from  
Jason. "I can. I can look after my self. But I wont need to – I saw no sign they had hounds for tracking sent and we are too close to their base for them to think we would hide. They are going to chase you, I guarantee it."

"If you die, Grayson, I am going to dig up your corpse and feed it to my dog!" Ruiz told him finally.

"I will do my best, officer Ruiz, never wanted to end up as a dogs dinner." Dick was grinning again, now he was getting his own way. But he looked like shit and Jason was honestly more concerned about leaving him to die of infection than the gang finding him.

"Lets get you hidden then," Jason said, and using the last of his strength he picked Dick up in his arms again. Dick squawked in surprise but didn't fight. Either because he was in too much pain, or was conserving his own strength, or because one set of tracks would be less noticeable.

When he found a good spot Jason lowered him as gently as he could. He was feeling pretty winded which did not bode well for the run through the jungle he was about to embark on.

As he pulled back Dick grabbed his hand. "Thank you for saving me, Jay. And thank you for helping save Ruiz too."

Jason squeezed his fingers, and then withdrew his hand to start poking though his pack – a good excuse to order his thoughts that were a little tangled. "Yeah, well you started it, with shooting me into the river," he said at last.

He handed Dick one of his water bottles and a couple of energy bars. "I don't know how long it will take, so be sparing with the water."

"Yes mother."

"I'm serious, Dick."

"I know."

Jason also gave him the Wayne Tech tablet. Hopefully they could use the Mercs gear to track the tablet back to this spot – that should save some time – and Jason was too exhausted to be completely sure he would remember the way back after more running and fighting.

Finally he handed over his secondary weapon. "There's only a couple of bullets left in this one, don't waste them."

Dick looked at it doubtfully, but he nodded. "Take care, Jay. Stay safe."

"You too."

It was fucking hard to walk away, but he did, and he didn't look back.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Warnings: Reference to non-con, a racial slur, violence and nastiness. The usual.

Ruiz was waiting for him, crouched just off the path, gazing out at the dappled light of dawn. How many days had they been in this goddamn jungle? Jason had lost count.

"I can hear them coming," she said as he approached. Her knuckles were white where she gripped her gun, but her hand was steady. Probably steadier than Jason's, who could really feel fatigue setting in. He was used to running on empty, used to over extending himself – but the high doses of drugs he had been shot up with just days before were playing havoc with his body as they were flushed out of his system. He could only imagine how unpleasant Dick's come-down was.

"Lets run," he told Ruiz, pulling her to her feet. "Got to leave a clear trail for them to follow – then when we're far enough away, we can head into the jungle and try to loose them."

Ruiz nodded and they took off at a reasonable pace. It was jarring and Jason's whole body ached and throbbed. "What kind of dog is it?" he asked between breaths, sudden curiosity helping to take his mind off the pain.

"What?" Ruiz panted beside him, shooting him an angry glance from under the wild tangle of her hair.

"The dog you're going to feed Dick to."

She gave him another incredulous look, and Jason wondered if he also caused all those eye rolls and twitches that seemed so prevalent with people who suffered exposure to Dick Grayson and his special brand of bat-shitery.

"A Pomeranian," she said at last, almost defensively.

Jason snorted despite his lack of breath. "One of those dumb fluffy things? Hardly a corpse devouring fiend."

"Have you ever _met_ a Pomeranian? They are tiny rat-bastards."

"I'll take your word for it," Jason huffed, amused despite himself. "I always fancied getting a dog, but don't really have the lifestyle for it," he mused. By his calculations they had run a quarter of a mile; time to turn off the path and start making there way though the undergrowth.

"I enjoy dogs," Ruiz said, her voice harsh with the effort of keeping pace with Jason's longer legs. "These little asshole ones especially – they're tiny savages."

Jason motioned for her to stop and they both took a moment to catch their breath. "What's it called, your tiny, viscous fluff-ball?"

"Napoleon," Ruiz said, straight faced.

Jason laughed loud enough even the dense jungle couldn't quite swallow the sound.

Half an hour later and they were running again, this time fighting through the tangled, rough terrain of the forest. The good news was their ruse seemed to have worked and the gang was following them, rather than hunting for Dick. The bad news was the men tracking them were fit, well rested and well fed. And they had gained an alarming amount of ground.

It was only a matter of time until the soldiers caught up, and Jason was pretty sure they were still far enough out from the rendezvous point that when they did it would be a very uneven fight. But there was not much more they could do but run and pray to whatever gods might be listening.

In the end they got further than Jason thought they would. But it still wasn't far enough.

Bullets shot past them as they ran, and Jason tugged Ruiz behind a tree. She was flushed and panting, great gulps of air that looked painful. Jason's own lungs felt tight with exertion and sweat was running into his eyes. He wiped his face with his sleeve as he tried to think of a way out of this, but he was coming up blank - there was fuck all he could do to save them.

On one hand he was glad Dick wasn't here for this final stand, maybe he would have a chance to survive, maybe the mercenary would find him and rescue him, maybe he would be able to contact someone on the tablet. Or, on the other hand, Dick might be facing a long, slow death of fever, dehydration and sickness, alone in the forest. Either that, or he might end up back in their hands; tortured and abused. Jason shuddered, fought down the impotent rage that welled up in his chest. He couldn't let himself dwell on that. Dick _would_ find a way to survive. He had the tablet and he was smart. If he managed to stay conscious he would figure out a way. Jason decided to stick to that thought, to keep faith in Dick's ridiculous ability to beat the odds.

"We know you're there, officers," a voice called out from the bushes behind them. "You give up, and we let you live. I can even guarantee you will not be harmed. But you run, or fight back and you will be made to regret it before you die. This is your last chance."

Jason had three bullets left. Ruiz had none. They were fucked.

Ruiz watched him check his ammo, her mouth set in a grim line. "I have no intention to go quietly," she told him, "I won't make that choice for you, but I will ask that you save one of those bullets for me, if they capture me."

Jason nodded numbly. For the first time he let himself wonder what had happened to her during her three days of captivity, whether she had endured the same kind of torture Dick had, if she had also been assaulted. He had assumed, because they hadn't drugged her, that they were keeping her unharmed for a reason. But perhaps it was just that Dick had been so much harder to handle.

Not a question he was going to ask, and not a choice he was going to contest, even if he wanted to. He handed her the gun. "That's your decision, Ruiz, but pick your moment carefully and use the other two on them. I'm going to see if I can take a few out before I go down."

"How?"

He shrugged. "Bullshit, mostly." He checked his hidden weapons carefully and took a few steadying breaths. He was going to have to be convincing, if he had a chance in hell of getting in close enough to get a couple of them with his blade. He raised his voice, "I'm not one of the cops you want. That means you've got no reason not to shoot me, so I'm not seeing an incentive for giving up without a fight."

"That's true, but we might go easy on you."

"Yeah, right. I was you, I wouldn't go easy on a guy who killed my buddies. So I figure I got to _give_ you a reason, right?"

"Right," the guy said, unimpressed.

"How about fifty thousand reasons?"

"I'm listening," the guy replied, his voice picking up a bit. Greed was a wonderful motivator.

"You know who the American cop is, don't you?"

"Wayne's gypsy brat," the guy said, his tone contemptuous. "Worth more than his weight in gold, or he was. Not sure Wayne will want him back now, never thought sloppy seconds was the kind of thing a guy like that would go for."

Jason took a moment to wrestle down the red haze of rage that suddenly colored his vision. The only thing that kept him clinging to his sanity was he would get to kill more of them if he waited until the time was right. Beside him Ruiz sucked in a sharp breath, and Jason could feel the fury radiating off her. She probably hadn't been aware of what had happened to Dick when they were separated. Her anger helped steady him, tighten his resolve.

This guy was going to be first to die.

Once he had his voice level he spoke up again. "Wayne will pay a ransom for me, too."

The man snorted in disbelief, "I don't think so, a fucking cape like you?"

"Everyone knows Wayne finances the Batman and his crew," Jason said, warming to his story. "You ever wonder why?"

"No," the guy was starting to sound bored.

Jason did spare a thought for the shit-show that this bunch of crap could bring down on Bruce, but apart from the one big lie, he wasn't saying much that wasn't already known or rumored. He was actually quite proud of the thread of almost plausible shit he had just managed to cobble together on the fly.

"I'm his illegitimate son," Jason said. The words sounded absurd when they came out his mouth, but they skirted close enough to the truth that they were almost convincing. And they were backed up by the gossip that had been circulating for years - that Bruce had fathered numerous kids and kept them and their mothers quiet with cash. There was even speculation Tim was his biological son, and the adoption was mealy a way to legitimize his chosen heir. Something that people felt was backed up by the fact he had not adopted Dick until he was an adult – the gossip sites liked to speculate _that_ only happened to try to distract from the rumors that his interest in Dick had been sexual in nature.

Fuck knows what they thought of Damian, but Bruce did try to keep the boy out of the public eye. Partly because that kind of life was stressful for a child, and partly to avoid a lawsuit, when an incensed Damian verbally eviscerated a reporter or two. Or literally, with that kid, literal disembowelment was also on the cards.

"Right," the guy said, unimpressed.

Time to sell it. "Grayson knows me, that should be obvious – he rescued me, I rescued him. We're brothers, after a fashion. Not to mention the fact that if you ask Wayne and he denies it, I know I'm going to die a lot more painful than a bullet to the head." Jason was aware of Ruiz watching him carefully, assessing. Jason hoped there was enough truth in there to persuade the bad guys, and enough lies to convince her he was bullshitting to save his skin. "You've got nothing to lose, and everything to gain. You either get cash, or the chance to kill me."

The guy was quiet for a moment, thinking. "I hear a lot of you talking, and not much from Grayson backing you up. You got anything to say, or you just let the real men talk?" he said, presumably to Dick.

Jason bit his lip until it bled, forcing calm before answering. "I'm afraid you've lost your chance with Grayson. He's long gone."

"How'd you mean, long gone?" Now the guy sounded angry, the thought of that ransom slipping through his fingers.

"We separated a while back, he went his own way, figured we were more likely to survive that way. So, you have very little chance of catching him up, I'm afraid. Which means, you want your ransom, you got to go with me."

There was a moment of angry silence while the guy thought it over. No doubt weighing his need to hurt something for the embarrassment of losing Dick, verses his greed. Greed won out, it usually did. "Throw down your weapon and step out. Let me look at you."

Jason tossed out his empty gun. "The guy that's speaking, is _mine_ ," he whispered to Ruiz, "use your bullets carefully, and run like hell. You might get away while I distract them – don't argue – if there is a chance one of us can live to get help for Dick and to bring these guys down, we have to take it."

She didn't look happy about it, but she nodded.

Jason stepped out into the clearing, his whole body braced for the bullets that didn't come. It looked like they had taken the bait, at least for now. He could feel the comforting weight of the long knife strapped to his back, and the firm tug of his wrist sheath as he calculated the odds. He had to get closer. In his left sleeve there were three tiny shuriken that could be released and flung with devastating results at this range, but he wanted to gut this fucker.

He took a step forward.

The man looked him over carefully. Jason thought about what he would look like gurgling his last breaths, blood pulsing over the blade of Jason's knife. He tried to keep the bloodlust off his face, but might not have suceeded, as two of the men took a step back.

The lead guy could only see money though. "Fifty thousand is not much for a man like Wayne. Not much for a son."

"I didn't say he _liked_ me, just that he's my father. However, he is very fond of my mother, so you let me speak to her first and she'll push the price up. Sky's the limit."

The guy nodded, already seeing all of Bruce's money at his disposal. Jason wondered if he was actually supposed to be doing this or whether he was planning to act independently and keep the cash. Made sense, as they had not appeared to have made the connection between Dick and Bruce back in the house above the river.

"Okay, lets take him," the guy said.

Jason tensed, feeling adrenalin flood his system. The shuriken fell into his hand when he released them and nestled between his fingers. The smaller knife slid free too, ready to stab that piece of shit in the throat.

He stepped forward again, as a thug with some cuffs moved doubtfully towards him.

Then everything changed.

He saw the sudden glint of a sword slicing down toward the leaders undefended neck and time seemed to stand still for a beat, then the guys neck and part of his jaw exploded outwards with the impact of the blade. Jason threw himself forward, not a second too soon as some of the guards fired there weapons in surprise, aimed right at the spot his head had been moments before.

He hit the ground hard, but rolled with his forward momentum and saved himself from being perforated by the dumb assholes squeezing the trigger at random. His instinctual lunge had saved him from death but a bullet still clipped his ankle sending white hot pain shooting up his leg.

One of the shuriken had sliced his fingers as he rolled but the other flew out and in to the eye of an armed guard, who screamed and dropped his weapon. Jason dove for it. Most of the men were now firing haphazardly into the jungle trying to hit whoever was picking them off with a big-ass sword. Big mistake. Jason sprayed them with bullets not caring who or where he hit. Ruiz sensibly remained behind the tree, thus missing being splattered in the uncoordinated spray of bullets from both sides.

Then there was an eerie silence, men lay dead around the clearing, and Jason was almost giddily shocked he wasn't among them. He blinked stupidly at the gun in his hand and his bleeding fingers. Then his ankle remembered it had been shot, pulsing with sudden agony and Jason sat down on his ass, hard.

He hoped it was just a brush of a bullet and nothing more serious, but he couldn't tell with the throbbing and the banging feeling in his head. He was suddenly aware he was incredibly thirsty, almost gasping, and his body felt shaky and weak.

He was also very aware this was not over yet.

"Jason, are you OK?" Ruiz called from behind the tree. Her eyes were wild but she was still gripping her gun with a steady hand. Jason added one hundred points to his already very high opinion of her as she remained hidden in the relative safety of her spot until she knew if their mysterious rescuer was friend or foe.

"I'm fine," he was amazed at how even his voice was. "You may as well show yourself," he called to the person waiting in the line of trees.

The man that stepped into the clearing was instantly recognizable despite his dark, nondescript fatigues and black balaclava. The sword was only part of it, the way he moved made the hair on Jason's arms stand on end.

Fuckity fuck. This was one of the three people he _didn't_ want to have picked up their contract.

They stared at each other for a moment, Jason still sitting in the dirt clutching an empty gun. Wonderful, not at all awkward.

From behind him, he could hear Ruiz's ragged breaths – she might not know who this was, but she sure as shit could sense the dangerous menace radiating off him.

"Oh, for fucks- _sake_ ," Jason burst out eventually. "Tell me you're taking the contract and I don't have to fight you?" he tried to keep the plaintive note out of his voice, but he suspected he hadn't quite managed it.

Slade Wilson pulled his balaclava up, revealing one blue eye and an amused smirk. "You're not the brat I was expecting," he said, "and you seem to be one light. My contract was for three."

Jason nodded, unbelievably relieved, but not ready to let his guard down – he and Wilson did not have the best working relationship. "How much did you hear?" he asked, forcing his body to move he struggled to his feet. His ankle ached and throbbed but he was glad to find it took his weight.

"Some," Wilson said, after a pause.

Cagey fucker. Well, Jason would deal with that issue later, for the time being they needed to get Ruiz to safety and head back to where they left Dick. The sense of urgency was nagging at him, every second they wasted was courting disaster. "Dick was injured, we left him a way back, we didn't know who would pick up the job, but we figured getting to them was our only hope."

"Hmm," Wilson said, turning his single eye towards the tree Ruiz was still crouched behind. "You didn't just abandon Grayson when he became too much of a burden?"

"We did no such thing!" Ruiz shouted angrily, "and the longer we spend here the more likely he will be found – we must go back!"

Wilson looked amused. Jason wasn't sure what to make of that. "Do you have transport?" he asked, hopefully. "And tracking equipment? We have a signal we can follow back to where we left him."

Wilson nodded. "I came by Night Jet. Lets return there and see if we can pick up this signal. My contract was for three, and three I will bring back, dead or alive."

That sounded _so_ encouraging.

Ruiz finally emerged from hiding, still clutching her gun. She eyed Wilson suspiciously. "You know this man?" she asked Jason, quietly, although probably not quietly enough to escape his notice.

"Yeah, Slade Wilson. He's a... private contractor we paid to help us escape. We have some history."

"You trust him?"

"Not an inch. But he is good at what he does, as long as we pay him, he'll help us."

Ruiz nodded and bent to retrieve the gun of a fallen guard. She looked exhausted and at the end of her reserves, but she still examined the weapon carefully and tucked it into her belt as she picked up another. Jason followed her example and restocked his own ammo supply, and then moved after Wilson back into the jungle.

The Night Jet was a small military grade stealth plane. Ruiz sank into the seat Wilson pointed her too with open relief. Jason perched on the edge of his, reluctant to sit properly in case he couldn't get up again.

"So," Wilson begun, "what should I call you, Red?"

"Jason," Jason replied, wearily. He appreciated Wilson's efforts not to blow his cover, but he was fairly sure Ruiz was going to have some serious questions for Dick when this was all over. He hoped they could come up with something convincing.

Wilson raised an eyebrow, but gave no further indication of his opinion. "Track Grayson's signal and I'll find him." He passed over a hand held devise.

Jason quickly utilized it to find Dick's signal – it was still strong. Although that didn't mean there was any guarantee he was still in one piece, it was still a relief to know they could track him. "I'm going with you," he told Wilson, handing the devise back over.

"You don't look like you are in any fit state, _Jason._ " He practically purred the name and it made a uncomfortable shudder work its way up Jason's spine.

"No compromise."

"Okay, it's your money, and your skin." Wilson smiled like a shark. "Or is it Wayne's?"

Jason grit his teeth. "Doesn't matter as long as you get paid, right?"

"I'll come too," Ruiz said, struggling upright from where she had been sinking into the comfortable seat.

"No," Jason said, "not because you would be a hindrance, you wouldn't, but if shit goes wrong, I want there to be someone who gets out and brings the hurt down on these fucks."

"We will come back," Wilson put in mildly, "at least _I_ will."

"Well, then you can get her out of here and then take the extra cash to return and help clear these bastards out," Jason snapped. "Can we stop wasting time and just go?"

Wilson shrugged his huge shoulders and stood with the fluid grace of a man who was completely at ease with himself. Jason had to concentrate all his energy and stubbornness just to regain his feet and even then he couldn't keep the wince off his face.

Wilson looked at him critically. "I'm willing to humor you to some extent, kid, but not at my own expense. You want to come with me, you let me patch you up."

The thought of Deathstroke that far in his personal space, putting hands on him, made Jason shudder again. But they really didn't have time to argue, and Wilson was holding all the cards. Jason nodded stiffly and sat back in the chair.

Wilson raised an eyebrow at his easy compliance but didn't mock him for it, for which Jason was grateful. "Apart from the ankle, any other major injuries?" he asked kneeling in front of Jason and taking hold of his boot in a strong grip.

"Bruises mostly. Bit stiff from being shot through body armor and pumped full of weird drugs."

"When was that?" Wilson started to untie the laces on his boot, each tug made Jason's jaw clench in pain.

"Few days ago," he said, attempting to control his voice. "Dick shot me out a window."

Wilson snorted and the edge of a smile tugged at his lip under the short beard. "Did he now?"

His fingers against the swollen, sore flesh of Jason's foot were not gentle, but they weren't overly harsh either - brisk and firm; professional. Jason wished it were painful instead. The sensation was making his skin crawl.

Wilson declared his foot unbroken, but the bone might have chipped a little from the impact, it was obvious from his expression that he thought Jason was going to fuck it up even more if he traipsed back tough the jungle on it. But instead of giving the lecture he expected, Wilson just wrapped it tightly in bandages and handed over a couple of light painkillers.

The walk back into the forest was unpleasant, but Jason had come back from the fucking dead, he wasn't going to let a little exhaustion and pain get the better of him. Also he had already fallen on his ass in front of Wilson once today, he wasn't going to do it again.

The jungle itself felt more oppressive now, although he felt a lot safer with Wilson's big frame in front of him. Wilson would take down any attackers, he had no doubt, but Jason was sill hyper aware that he himself was a walking liability. It was a nerve-wreaking trip.

It felt like hours, but was probably closer to forty-five minutes. Apparently in their frantic run he and Ruiz had taken something of a convoluted route. They finally made it back to the path and Jason felt another bolt of adrenaline hit him. Was Dick okay? Had he been discovered? Had he succumbed to his injuries and they were walking towards a corpse? Jason's heart was hammering so hard in his chest he felt queasy, and there was a cold pit of anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

The other nagging concern was if he was making a huge mistake trusting Wilson – he wasn't sure what he and Dick's relationship was at the moment. Over the years it seemed to have run the gauntlet of wry, antagonistic affection, all the way to outright hatred and back again. Jason couldn't shake the worry that he was leading Deathstroke towards a critically injured Dick who would be unable to defend himself if Wilson was currently holding a grudge – or someone else's contract.

But there was fuck all choice at the moment – if things went to shit, he would just have to deal as it happened. If Wilson had any indication of the direction of Jason's thoughts, he gave no indication and instead tugged aside the undergrowth to reveal Dick, awake, but glassy eyed and sweating. He was also holding Jason's gun in shaking hands, pointed right between Wilson's eyes.

Relief flooded though Jason, the feeling so intense it almost knocked him off his feet. "Stand down, Dickie," he said.

Dick blinked up at him, the gun stayed pointing at Wilson's face though. Wilson, for his part remained still and calm – a wise move Jason suspected.

"Jay," Dick slurred, "Ruiz OK?"

"Yeah, how you holding up?"

"M' fine," Dick said, unconvincingly. He swung his gaze back to Wilson – recognition in his face this time. "He our help?" he asked.

"For our sins, Yeah."

Dick didn't look overly alarmed, and lowered his gun, which went a way towards convincing Jason that Wilson might not just kill them out of hand.

"You look a mess, kid," Wilson said.

Dick grimaced at him and held out an arm to Jason, like he wanted to be pulled up.

Jason stepped towards him, but Wilson held out an arm to stop him. "You don't look like you could withstand a healthy sneeze in your direction, Red. I doubt trying to help the kid up is going to do more than land the pair of you back in the dirt. And I don't think we have the time to take the luxury of sorting you out again."

Jason didn't like it, but it was true. He was wobbling on his bad ankle and Dick didn't look too steady either and he was still sitting down. Wilson didn't give him time to think it through though, and reached to haul Dick to his feet, holding him upright with one big hand.

Dick clearly wasn't expecting it and lashed out wildly, toppling backwards in an uncoordinated flail of limbs. Wilson looked comically surprised. None of the frantic blows hand even landed, which was a testament to Dick's physical condition, but it was the action it's self that indicated his emotional state and it felt _wrong._ And not just to Jason, judging by the way Wilson was watching Dick as he lay panting in the undergrowth.

"Sorry," Dick said into the awkward silence, as both Jason and Wilson stared at him. "You took me by surprise. I'm not with it," his speech slurred slightly at the end of the sentence, and he wet his lips, peering up at them.

Wilson nodded and held out a hand again, this time Dick accepted the help and Wilson pulled him upright. Once on his feet he wobbled for a moment, looking pale and sick. There was no way he was going to make it back though the jungle on his own two feet, and Jason wasn't going to be the one to carry him. From the look on Dick's face he knew it too, and didn't like it.

"Kid," Wilson began, but Dick waved him off.

"I know, just give me a moment. Got water?"

Wilson handed him a canteen and Dick drank greedily, his eyes almost closed. Then he nodded his consent. He avoided looking at Jason, as Wilson scooped him up in his arms like he didn't weigh a thing. Wilson remained impassive, but Dick looked explosively tense for a moment, before relaxing into the hold and laying his cheek against Wilson's shoulder. It made Jason uncomfortable, but he couldn't quite say way.

"Red, you need to take point," Wilson growled at him.

Jason forced his body into motion again. An hour to safety.

Just an hour.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

An hour was a long time, and even having Dick within arms reach hadn't lessened Jason's anxiety about him. In some ways, it was worse, being able to hear Dick's shallow breathing and knowing Wilson had his hands on him. He knew it was irrational – Wilson was helping them, and being as impersonal with carrying Dick as he had been when he tended Jason's ankle - but Jason felt the same way about it as he did about having the delicate bones of his foot resting in Wilson's big hand; like his skin was crawling and he was seconds away from violence.

It wasn't as though he himself hadn't worked with Wilson before, albeit rather reluctantly, and he had been professional despite the somewhat extenuating circumstances. Jason felt his cheeks heat at the memory. He was going to studiously avoid thinking about that.

Luckily there was plenty to distract him from past embarrassments - they had done well making their way through the jungle, but ran into trouble within sight of the Jet. They approached from the west, and Jason held up a hand to stop Wilson in his tracks when he caught the slight glint of metal through the leaves. They were so damn close.

"What do you see, Red?" Wilson murmured, his soft voice making the hair stand up on the back of Jason's neck. He had dropped to a crouch, still holding Dick like he weighed nothing at all. For his part, Dick looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes focused.

"There are men surrounding your Jet. I thought it was supposed to be invisible or something?" Jason growled back at him.

Wilson gave him a look. "Only when its in flight. It's invisible to radar, not the naked eye."

"That's rubbish." Jason grumbled as he edged forward. "I can't see how many there are. But I suspect too many for a frontal assault."

Wilson carefully laid Dick down against a tree and came forward, gesturing for Jason to move back so he could get a look. Jason squashed the feeling of irritation at the gesture and moved aside, returning to where Dick was pushing himself upright with a grimace.

"How you feeling, Dick-face?" he asked, crouching in front of him and resisting the urge to lay a hand on his forehead. It was obvious just from looking at him that he was running a fever and he wasn't sure how Dick would feel about unnecessary touching.

Dick scrunched up his nose "Like I got beaten, shot and drugged to the gills," he said.

"That's pretty much what you look like too. Not going to win any beauty pageants with that face on."

"Fuck off, I can still rock it." Dick told him, unconvincingly. Then he frowned. "The infection is spreading in my leg. If I don't get it looked at soon it could go septic." He looked up at Jason with a touch of genuine fear. "I could lose it. That _can't_ happen, Jay."

Jason nodded, but if Dick's leg was as bad as he suspected it was, then losing the limb was the least of their worries - sepsis was no joke, and although he had given Dick what antibiotics he could there was no telling if the drugs in his system had caused any sort of interaction or lessened their effectiveness.

"We won't let it happen, Dickie," Jason reassured him, but the truth was that if they didn't deal with it soon it was going to become a very real risk.

Dick nodded. "Do we have any more water?"

"No, but there's more in the plane."

Dick ran a shaking hand through his sweaty hair, dislodging a collection of leaves and dirt. "I'm not sure I can be much help getting on board I'm afraid."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But that's why we hired ourselves a supper efficient killer."

Dick made a face at him, and Jason huffed. "Would it be better if I called him a soldier? That's kind of what he is in this situation. I don't think you can afford to take the moral high ground, here."

"He doesn't have to kill them." Dick complained.

Jason didn't think he sounded even slightly convincing, but it was enough to piss him off. "Right, so he goes easy on them, and it takes so long to get into the Jet you lose your leg. That what you want?"

Dick just stared at him. He looked guilty, which made Jason even angrier – this bullshit Bruce had indoctrinated him with was toxic - the idea that other people's lives were more important than his own was problematic at best, but it was truly fucked up that this way of thinking was ingrained to such an extent, he couldn't even feel justified defending himself and his body, if doing so meant the people who were trying to kill him might die instead.

Jason couldn't fathom it. It was a fucking no-brainier to that, in a situation when it was 'them or us,' you did what you had to in order to survive - sacrificing yourself to save civilians, innocents or those you cared about made sense. Dieing to save your would be murderer was fucking stupid.

"What about me, huh, Dick?" he said "What about if us going slow and easy and not letting Wilson take kill shots means I catch a bullet? That worth it?"

"Jay-"

"As interesting as this argument is getting," Wilson interrupted "It's a moot point. I was paid to keep you alive, not them, and I intend to do that. If that means killing these people, so be it."

"I could just not pay you," Dick countered.

Wilson nodded at Jason. "If you don't, he will. And if he doesn't have the cash, then I guess he'll be in my debt." He smiled, slow and wide. " _More_ in my debt," he added as he watched Jason's cheeks heat.

Dick shot him a poisonous look, but it was tinged with curiosity. Jason was hoping to avoid that conversation if at all possible. Maybe he could convince Dick the whole exchange had been a fever dream.

"If you two are done trying to glare each other into submission and would like to get on with being rescued, might I suggest paying attention to the militia attacking my plane?"

Jason flushed _again_. You would think running for his life for days though a jungle would have taken president over embarrassment, but apparently not.

"I hate you," Dick said. It wasn't clear which one of them he was referring to.

"Do you have a plan then, Wilson?" Jason growled to cover his discomfort. "We're outnumbered and outgunned, even with you here."

"A frontal assault is pointless," Wilson agreed. "And Grayson here is useless."

"Screw you," Dick said from the floor. He was scowling, but his eyes were a bit unfocused again.

"You're not the only one - Red looks like he's on his last legs too." Wilson continued.

"At least both my legs are working," Jason said, in an effort to get a rise out of Dick, he didn't like how thin his voice was. "And I'm less likely to fall on my face if there's a stiff breeze."

"Yeah?" Dick said, twisting his mouth into the parody of a smile. "Come over here and say that. I'll bite your kneecaps."

Wilson had a look of infinite patience on his weathered face, but then again, he had known Dick since his teens. It must have been quite trying then, let alone now – time hadn't mellowed Dick's sharp tongue or terrible sense of humour any.

Wilson handed Jason one of his big guns. "I'm going to radio through to the girl on the plane to see if she can get it going and get the defences engaged. The n I'm going to see how many I can pick off before they notice."

"She's hardly a girl, Slade." Dick said.

"You need to get your priorities straight, kid. And for the record, anyone under fifty with less than a hundred kills to their name is a girl or boy in my book."

"And then?" Jason said, hating to agree with Wilson, but also feeling the need to prioritise survival over arguing terminology with an assassin.

"Then you just hold your position and kill anyone who gets close."

Jason nodded and hefted his new weapon. Dick looked at him miserably, but it was very easy to ignore that expression and he hunkered down to watch as Wilson disappeared into the jungle like a phantom.

"I don't feel good about this," Dick said.

"I don't feel like I care." Jason aimed his gun towards the armed men he could see through the trees, but he wouldn't shoot unless he had to. No point in giving away their position.

Suddenly the Jet roared to life – Jason was strung so tight he jumped, but avoided firing the gun still clutched in his hands. Behind him, Dick gasped in surprise.

The gathered militia began shooting at it, but the rounds bounced off like they were hitting an invisible shield. Now this was what Jason had been hoping for when Wilson said he had a Night Jet. All it was missing was some serious firepower.

As if in answer to his thought, flaps opened on the underside of the plane and started to spray the armed men with bullets. They screamed and fell, many running further into the jungle to escape. Jason assumed Wilson was coordinating things with Ruiz in the Jet and had got himself out of the line of fire. He and Dick were safe too, off to the side.

"We should get ready to run for it," Jason told him, creeping back to where Dick was sitting, wide, eyed.

"What's happening?" He asked, and Jason realised he couldn't see from where he was sitting – he could hear the gunfire and the screaming though, so he should have had a pretty good idea.

"Officer Ruiz is shooting the shit out of the soldiers from the Jet. But I suppose its okay when she does it, her being a cop and all."

Dick winced, but otherwise ignored Jason as he tried to struggle to his feet. Jason got one of his arms round his shoulder and heaved him up. They wobbled for a moment, like a pair of blood-splattered bowling pins, then Wilson materialised out of the trees nearly giving Jason a heart attack - he hadn't even heard him approach. Either he was losing his edge or Deathstroke was really just that good.

"Let's get while the going's good," Wilson said, coming over to take Dick from him, but Jason was reluctant to let him go.

"Slade," Dick said, settling back into Wilson's arms - he looked pained and uncomfortable, but Jason still hated that he used the man's first name with such familiarity.

The short run to the plane felt like an eternity with a target strapped to his back, but no shots were fired. Perhaps lady luck hadn't completely deserted him.

"Lower the doors," Wilson barked suddenly, and Jason realised he must be speaking to Ruiz who had been controlling the Jet at his direction. The sight of the ramp descending filled Jason with such a feeling of profound relief he was almost dizzy with it.

Once inside Jason blinked in the harsh lighting. Ruiz strode up, and it looked for a moment like she wanted to beat the life out of the both of them. So much so that Jason was braced for a punch as she stepped towards him and he was downright shocked when she wrapped her arms around him in a tight, almost vicious hug instead.

"Your face, Jay." Dick said with the shadow of a grin as Wilson put him down on one of the seats. "It's like you've never had a cuddle before."

"It wasn't a cuddle, Grayson." Ruiz told him, primly. "It was an 'I'm happy you're not dead' embrace."

"I'll have to try that some time, when I want a cuddle." The expression on Dick's face would have been impish if he didn't look like he was about to keel over and die on the floor of the Jet.

"Whatever," Jason grumbled, while Ruiz gave Dick a much gentler hug. She looked exhausted, as they all did, but Jason could see under that was still the shadow of fear. He recognised much of it was concern for Dick, who probably looked even worse to her than he did to Jason. He wasn't sure how to offer her comfort without revealing his own anxiety to Dick. "At least we all made it," he tried, awkwardly.

"Before we get too ahead of ourselves," Wilson interrupted, "I would like to point out that we are four hours from the nearest hospital that we can trust has not been infiltrated, and Grayson's continued use of this leg might not last that long."

"Can you help me?" Dick asked. He sounded resigned.

"If you want to keep it, then I'm going to have to do some field surgery, clean and drain the wound. It's not going to be pleasant, but it has to be done. It's already putrid, I can smell it from here."

Dick looked like he was going to protest. Jason could well understand why – it would leave him feeling exposed and vulnerable, far worse than being carried in the man's arms. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, before common sense and the will to survive won out and he nodded.

"I'm going to get the Jet into the air," Wilson said. "Jason, you get the medkit out and start setting up. Officer Ruiz, you take down time and start thinking over what the hell you are going to tell your superiors that won't get you or Grayson fired."

Ruiz frowned at him, but at Jason's nod she reluctantly took a seat and strapped herself in, leaving Jason to do as he was told and start setting up for surgery. He found a very well stocked kit – more like a mini emergency room, with drips, drugs and plenty of sterile equipment. There was even a stainless steel surface that flipped down to make a serviceable operating table.

As the jet rumbled to life again he made his way back to Dick who was barely able to stand. They took it slow, as Jason's own legs were wobbling alarmingly and his ankle was throbbing in renewed agony as the last of the adrenaline he had been running on seemed to fade. Despite his body's objections, Jason managed to haul Dick to the back of the plane and prop him against the table.

"You're going to have to take your pants off," he said, suddenly realising the other reason for Dick's reluctance for Wilson to treat him. "And your shirt, it's filthy. We can get you a new one, and some clean underwear you can wear while he works on you."

Dick nodded, he looked upset for a moment, but then his jaw tightened. "You're going to have to help me," he said stiffly.

"Sure thing, Dick-face." Jason said, determined to keep it as light as possible – not an easy task as Dick struggled to slip his pants over his hips, revealing the edges of yellowing bruises. Jason took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself and then helped Dick get his shirt over his head. His torso looked much worse in the stark light of the plane than it had in the cave. There was a number of cigarette burns clustered on one nipple and another deeper burn on the soft skin under his arm.

Dick avoided his eyes as Jason handed over a white t-shirt from the stash of clothes he had found with the medical supply's. Jason helped him get it on – they would deal with the more minor injuries after the leg situation had been debt with, and he suspected Dick would rather have as many clothes on as he could at the moment.

Kneeling down to help Dick take his boxers off was strangely difficult, as though the physical action had some sort of emotional significance he couldn't put his finger on. But from this new position, he realised that he could smell the wound too, and Wilson had been right – they had to act fast.

Dick stood away from the table, one hand clutching the cool surface for support and the other holding onto the pair of underpants Jason had handed him. Despite Jason's attempts to keep things as calm and impersonal as possible, he found he was really struggling – working the fresh pair of underwear up Dick's bruised thighs and over finger shaped marks, was cruelly intimate in a way that was upsetting and confusing. Jason's own fingers were shaking, and though he tried to convince himself it was with fatigue he knew that it wasn't.

He had never faced this kind of situation with someone he was close to before, he couldn't wrap his head around having to treat Dick as a victim – especially knowing how Dick would feel about being labelled as such. Jason just couldn't bring his own turbulent emotions to bear; the feelings of impotent rage, of grief, guilt and doubt were just too overwhelming.

He remained on his knees for a long moment, trying to get himself together. He needed food and water, a couple of days of sleep. Everything felt worse in the kind of physical state they were all in, and practical things could make it better.

He stood awkwardly, and began rummaging in the other storage compartments, finding enough water and energy bars to keep them all going for another day or so at a push. He handed both to Dick who ignored the food in favour of guzzling more water. Jason didn't stop him, the moron knew he shouldn't drink too fast and if he puked it was his damn fault.

He stuffed an energy bar into his own mouth, suddenly really registering how hungry he was, and then took a selection to where Ruiz was sitting. She was asleep, her dirt-streaked face pinched with pain or bad dreams. Jason didn't want to wake her so checked her breathing carefully - he figured she was just exhausted rather than unconscious so he left her where she was, with water and food by her side for when she woke.

As Jason returned to Dick's side, Wilson made his way up the plane towards them. Apparently the Night Jet had a trustworthy autopilot to go with those sweet guns.

"You ready, kid? this isn't going to be pleasant," he said as he approached.

"Is it ever?" Dick asked, as Jason helped him back up onto the table. He looked somehow small and deceptively fragile sitting there in a loose t-shirt and ill fitting briefs. Wilson handed him a couple of painkillers and another bottle of water, which Dick took with out question.

Wilson started laying out the things he would need while Jason stood back, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm going to give you some local anaesthetic, but it's likely to hurt like a son-of-a-bitch regardless. So, Red, you're going to have to be ready to hold him down if needed."

Jason grimaced, he hopped it didn't come to that for his sanity's sake.

Dick lay back on the table, his limbs loose and apparently relaxed, but the set of his jaw said otherwise. When Wilson set to work, Dick turned his face to the wall and stared at it fixedly, like it held the secrets of the world. Jason avoided looking at Dick as much as possible, unable to bear the thoughts swirling around his head. Instead, his eyes were drawn to Wilson, watching his reaction to the damage on Dick's skin.

His face was as calm and impassive as it had been when he tended to Jason's wounds, but Jason had been trained by the Bat. He could see the anger in the tension in his wrist, the slight twitch of his jaw. It was pretty damn obvious what had happened to Dick, just from the visible injuries – and Dick had to know that too. Having Wilson witness it had to be hard, despite whatever weird-ass relationship they had.

Wilson cut open the partially cauterized wound to help drain it, and the smell made Jason's gut twist. If he hadn't rescued Dick, he would have _died_ from this. If Wilson hadn't come to their aid he would have died. It was pure fucking luck they had managed this intervention in time and had access to enough medical equipment they could start to fix things.

Dick was trembling with the effort of keeping still or not crying out, so Jason took his hand and Dick gripped it tightly. Neither of them said anything. There was no point.

By the time Wilson started to flush the wound with saline, Dick was barely holding it together, clinging to consciousness by pure stubborn will alone. His face was pinched with pain, and his cheeks were flushed with fever, but despite that and the bruises marring his skin he still looked beautiful. But then Jason suspected he would always find Dick Grayson beautiful, had done ever since the first time he got his ass kicked by him. His lips twisted up slightly at the memory.

"Nearly done," Wilson grunted, he was inserting a drain and mopping up the mess his cleaning had made. "Got to take some more antibiotics and keep it clean."

Jason wondered how long it had taken. Ruiz was still asleep, curled tightly in her chair, and Jason could feel the tug of pure exhaustion pulling him under too. He looked down at Dick, who was still clutching his hand. He was still awake, barely, a tiny sliver of blue showing under his mostly closed eyelids.

"Alright, kid," Wilson said, his voice weirdly gentle. "Let's get you to a proper seat. You've got three hours to rest." Wilson scooped Dick up again, making him cry out softly, in pain or surprise. He also didn't let go of Jason's hand which made getting to the seats in the front of the plane a bit tricky, and nearly sent him tumbling face first under Wilson's boots.

Wilson looked amused as he lowered Dick to a seat and fetched him a warm blanket. Jason took the seat next to him and tried not to pass out in relief.

"You need me to give you a check-up too, Red?" Wilson asked.

"Nah, need sleep. You can fix me up proper when we land." Jason shut his eyes for a second and when he opened them again, Wilson was gone.

"Welcome back," Dick said in a quiet, hoarse voice.

Jason's whole body ached like he had been run over by the Batmobile. "How long was I out?"

"'About an hour,"

"You didn't sleep?"

Dick shook his head slightly. "Thought would be better to wait for you to wake. Then take my turn."

"Moron. What's going to happen up here that wouldn't wake us both?"

Dick shrugged helplessly, wincing at the movement. "Just didn't feel right," he admitted after a moment.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. You get some rest, I'll keep watch for you now, OK?"

"Thanks, Jay."

Jason squeezed his hand, where their fingers were still entangled. "No problem, Dickie. I'll wake you when we get there."

Dick's eyes were closed before Jason even finished speaking, and he finally let himself think about what would happen after. A lot of people were going to die for this, and he would make sure a few specific ones would fucking _suffer_ before the end.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

" When you said hospital, this wasn't what I was envisioning, " Jason muttered as he hovered anxiously behind Wilson, who was once again carrying Dick in his arms like a blushing bride.

The 'hospital' was more of a rural walk in clinic stuck out in the middle of nowhere. But quite frankly Jason would take whatever they could get, his grousing merely covering his fear over Dick's worsening condition. He had not regained consciousness after falling asleep on the plane and his fever had spiked again.

" This place might not look like much, but it has well trained staff and state of the art equipment, " Wilson told him. The man wasn't even slightly out of breath, despite carrying Dick in a very impractical hold.

Jason glanced around him. He could believe the staff were competent, there was no reason they wouldn't be. But this place was in a tiny town, rather than the bustling city he had been hoping for. And the equipment was a bit of a stretch, the place looked like it had survived a couple of hurricanes, and as they got closer, he noticed bullet holes riddling the walls of the dusty parking lot.

" Right, " he said, dubiously.

" It's only a handful of years since this place was embroiled in what amounted to a civil war, " Wilson told him, as he picked up the pace. " The Wayne foundation donated funds to help resupply the hospitals after the fighting. Of course, it was the Americans that armed the rebels, so maybe you could see it as blood money. "

" Wayne donated plenty, " Ruiz broke in. " We were grateful, but it was _our_ sweat and blood that rebuilt, while he sat at home on his piles of money. " She didn't sound grateful, she sounded pissed.

Jason snorted, trying not to grin as he scrambled around a beat up jeep parked haphazardly between two spaces. He wondered if Bruce ever got to talk to the actual people his foundation had helped, away from the cameras and the press. He would pay to see a sit down meeting between Ruiz and the old man, he really would.

His smile fell away as they reached the entrance to the clinic. He was worried about what might happen to Ruiz when they returned. A cop working in the cartel's territory was always going to be at risk, but after this shit show, would she be able to return to her home safely? She had mentioned she had kids, a dog, maybe a partner. Would they be safe? He had hoped that they could work with Bruce to bring her stateside until this mess blew over, but he suspected her pride and fierce love for her weather worn and hardy little country wouldn't allow her to leave.

He suspected the only way to keep her safe would be to bring the whole regime down. Not that he wasn't planning to do that anyway, but it might take a bit of time. And it might not be quick enough. Why was he always surrounded by stubborn, self-sacrificing assholes?

They burst through the front entrance of the clinic, stinking of mud, two day old sweat and blood. Two nurses and a doctor had Dick on a gurney and whizzing off before Jason could take proper stock of the situation. He trotted along behind Wilson as he gave the doctor a full, stark rundown of Dick's injuries, drug intake and general condition.

He asked for an internal exam, administration of antivirals. He used the word rape.

It was the first time Jason had actually let himself think the word itself. Stupid, because it was just a word. What had happened was the same, no matter what term was used, but to hear it was strangely devastating. He fell back and leaned against the wall, this was a real thing that had happened and he didn't know how to deal with it.

" Are you okay? " Ruiz asked. She lay a hand on his arm, and he kept looking at her torn and ragged fingernails. He wondered again what she had been though in the three days between her capture and rescue.

" I'm fine, " he said at last. " Tired, but alright. I'm just worried about Dick. "

" I am too. But he is strong, I believe he will pull through. "

" He's too stubborn not too, " Jason agreed. " It's what comes after I can't stop thinking about. "

" It wasn't your fault, you know, " Ruiz said gently. And Jason had to force down a maelstrom of emotion. This is why he hated working with nice people; their kindness and concern was often enough to completely undo him.

" I know, but I still feel partly to blame, " he admitted at last.

" Maybe if you hadn't been there, we wouldn ' t have walked into that trap, " Ruiz agreed. " Or maybe we would have, and there would have been no one there to rescue us. We might still be there, in the dark, and Dick would almost certainly be dead. " She squeezed his arm. " What happened, happened. Now we just have to live with it. "

" You remind me of another woman I know, back home, " Jason said, giving her a tired and slightly watery smile. " She's a pragmatic, obstinate, busy-body too. "

Ruiz grinned, the expression lighting up her dirty face. " She a cop? "

" Nah, her dad is though. But she somehow still managed to be the boss of everyone. " He pushed up off the wall. Ruiz was right, sniveling about the past and the things he wished he could change wasn't going to help any of them. " Come on, let ' s go find us a couple of nurses to check us over and then get a shower and a bed. An hours sleep was nowhere near enough for me. "

The nurses were efficient, as was the portly little doctor who poked and prodded him and scolded him for being a fool in heavily accented English. Finally he was left alone, he knew he should go find Dick, check on his condition. But sleep reached out and snatched his consciousness away without him noticing.

He woke suddenly hours later, his senses springing from zero to ten from one breath to the next, danger shooting over his skin like a wildfire

He sat up, reaching for the weapon that wasn't where he had left it. He attempted to struggle out of the narrow cot he had been sleeping in, but got tangled in the blankets.

The Red Hood, brought down by overly enthusiastic beading. What an epitaph.

" Calm down, Red, it's just me. " Wilson's soft rumble of a voice said, over the sound of blood rushing in Jason's ears. He sounded amused.

" _Fuck_ , " Jason said, falling back against the pillows and choosing to ignore the one leg he had managed to extricate from its entanglements, which was now hanging uselessly over the side of the bed. His bad ankle no less. " Dick? " he asked, adrenaline spiking again.

" He's fine. Fever's broken, antibiotics doing their job. He woke for a while, was mostly coherent and is sleeping peacefully now. "

" Thank fuck. "

" Indeed. "

Jason wrestled with himself for a moment. " I owe you, " he admitted, after a moment.

" Yes, you do, " Wilson agreed stepping away from the door and moving closer. All the hair on Jason's body attempted to stand on end at his proximity.

Wilson smirked at him, the expression was mocking rather than cruel " I'll add it to your tab, " he said.

" Can you stop with that shit? " Jason muttered, scowling in an attempt to cover his discomfort.

" Why? Worried Dick will get curious? "

Jason scowled harder, the man was enjoying watching him squirm.

" You're going to have to have a conversation with him at some point, that boy's smart as a whip, except when it comes to looking after his own hide. "

There was that wry affection again. Jason hated it. It conjured up weird feelings in him, a mixture of protectiveness and what he refused to identify as jealousy. " You've done your bit now, " he said, as coolly as he could, " Dick will pay you for your trouble. "

Wilson raised an eyebrow and Jason had a horrible feeling he could read him like an open book. " You so sure you're clear of them? We are still technically in enemy territory. "

" What are you implying? " Jason asked, dread rising from his gut to choke him. He was getting pretty sick of that feeling of rage and helplessness.

" These aren't your garden variety drug runners, Red. They're a well established group that span continents. And you and the other two musketeers have not only embarrassed them by escaping, but have been inside their compounds, had access to their computers. They are going to want you dead. "

" Can they track us here? "

Wilson shrugged, still calm despite his words. " Possibly. If they have an informant who tips them off. "

Jason nodded. " Give me twenty four hours to rest up, and then we can go back and wipe out the whole fucking lot of them, " he said. Hopefully some rest and proper food would leave him fit enough to fight.

" Oh we can, can we? That's not part of the deal I have with Grayson. I don't think he or Daddy dearest is going to want to cough up for that particular mission. And I don't work for free. "

The fucker was right of course. " I'm not broke, you know. I can pay. "

" You want me to single-handedly attack a wide spread militia in hostile territory? Red, there is no way in hell you can afford me. "

" Not single-handedly. This shit is personal. I'm coming too, " Jason insisted, stubbornly. Although he had a feeling negotiations were not going to go in his favor.

" And if they send assassins to this hospital? You will be killing off their disposable foot soldiers, while they are here murdering Officer Ruiz and your incapacitated boyfriend. "

Jason flushed slightly at that comment, but managed to stop himself from a childish denial. Wilson was just trying to get a rise out of him and was watching his face with a detached sort of curiosity. Perhaps because he was testing the waters in some way or maybe he just enjoyed riling Jason up, the sick fuck. But he couldn't dwell on that, or the blush still on his cheeks, because Wilson was right. He couldn't go and get revenge if it meant leaving Dick and Ruiz undefended.

He tried to think his way round it, he wanted to be the one to end those bastards, needed to know they were dead, needed to _feel_ it.

But he couldn't. If he left and something happened, it would be the end of him.

" What do you want from me, Wilson? " he asked, at last. It was obvious the man wanted _something_ , and he may as well find out now rather than further down the line.

" What have you got? You already owe me for saving your ass before, very literally. "

Jason ruthlessly squashed down the resentment and anger. Slade wanted something specific from him, and bar a few things, he was willing to at least entertain undertaking whatever it was; if it meant he took down the gang and insured certain people would suffer for their crimes. But, on the other hand he also knew that Slade _wanted_ to kill them too. He was bafflingly fond of Dick, and he was upset by what had happened. He was angry. Maybe not in the white hot way Jason was, but angry enough to put some effort into revenge.

That gave Jason bargaining power, not a lot, but enough if he played his cards right. He was reasonably confident that the price of Wilson's continuing help would not be more than he was willing to pay.

But he did wish he wasn't haggling over something so serious while half naked in a hospital bed, still snarled in his own bedding. But he suspected his reputation was shot to shit anyway. " I could just wait, " he said, watching Wilson's face closely. " B will probably be on his way already, he must know that Dick is missing by now. "

Wilson settled against the wall, lifting one boot to rest against the faded green paintwork. He cocked his head, regarding Jason carefully. " The problem with _B_ , is that sometimes he forgets you boys are human and make mistakes. And the problem with you boys, is that you believe him to be somehow infallible. Unless they ' ve contacted him for a ransom, it's quite possible he thinks Dick has things under control. "

That was disturbingly possible. Bruce seemed to vacillate between cutting them out of an investigation to 'protect' them, and throwing them to the damn wolves. It gave Jason emotional whiplash, but he could only imagine what it was like for Dick who was so caught up in Bruce's crazy rip-tide.

" We could call in and ask for a pick up. It's after Christmas now, right? Holiday season's nearly over. There's usually a lull in January, when everyone ' s licking their wounds. "

" And how would Dick feel about that, do you think? " Slade's voice was smooth like a good scotch that still burnt on the way down. " He wallows in each perceived failure, he doesn't realize half the problem is that his family have too _much_ faith in him. He has unrealistic expectations of himself. "

He was right, again. And Jason _hated_ it, not just because it was infuriating, but because it was obvious Wilson knew Dick well enough to see that, and to exploit it. Fondness aside, Wilson was a practical man who had no problem at all with using whatever tools he had available to win the game he was playing. If, like Dick and the Bat-Brats, you were playing by Batman's rules, it gave Wilson a staggering and unfair advantage.

Luckily, Jason didn't play by those rules either.

" What are your terms, Slade? "

Wilson's lips curved into the tiniest smile. " A favor. For a job. "

" And you need me? " Jason asked, doubtfully. " You don't have other people you can ask? "

" It's the sort of thing I might have persuaded Grayson to do, although he won't work with me unless he is in full control of the terms. " Wilson's lips tipped up again, as though at the shadow of a memory. " But that's off the table in this case. I intend to kill my targets, both because wrangling Dick is too time consuming for my current schedule, and because of the particulars of this job. "

The particulars.

Jason was fairly sure he was not going to like this. " I ask again, " he soldiered on, " You must have people – when Dick is too difficult to _wrangle_. So why me? "

" You and Grayson are very similar in some ways, tenacious, it must run in the family. Very well, yes there are people I could use. But I want it to be you because it it would be mutually beneficial to me and to Gotham, which would in turn benefit you. And because I know you have - " he paused and smirked, " - experience. "

Jason felt himself flush. He was never going to live that nonsense down. " Fine, but that's it. Just work, no play. And if you are killing people I have to know who and why. I won't help you murder innocents for cash. Not even for your aid now. "

Wilson nodded. " I wouldn't ask it of you in these circumstances. I ' ll send over the files with the details, when our business here is concluded, you can confirm after you ' ve read them. "

" Fine. In exchange, I don't just want you to bring them down. I want you to make the people that hurt Dick _suffer_. "

" Do you know who it was, superficially? " Wilson's voice dropped almost into a growl.

Oh yeah, he was going to see this done properly. A weight eased off Jason's shoulders he hadn't realized had even been there. He reached for his pants, which were hanging off the end of the bed, and handed over the baggies with the cigarettes and the condoms. " This is probably a good place to start. I assume you have facilities you can use to get results fast, find one or two and question them. Get them to lead you to the others. There was an American man there too, earlier, he might be worth finding. Name was Caldwell I think. Kill them all, no fucking survivors. " Jason's own voice had dipped low and furious as Wilson took the evidence bags from him and tucked them away.

" Consider it done. "

" If, " Jason paused and licked his lips, " if there is any other evidence of what happened, find it and destroy it. "

" What kind of evidence?"

" There was some serious security set up there, video feeds, " he trailed off. If they had known who Dick was, and some of them obviously had, it was very possible they had recorded it. If it was released online it would be an additional trauma that both Dick and Bruce would want to avoid. Not worth as much as a ransom. But still good blackmail material.

" Hmm, " Wilson said, frowning slightly. He had obviously come to to the same conclusion. " I'm afraid if footage was made, it might already be too late to keep it from getting out. However, it ' ll be something to look into. If I can discover if it exists, and find a trail of where it might have gone, then it will at least give us a head start in stopping it. "

Jason nodded, once again pushing down the feelings that rose up in him, it wasn't a fear he had really been dwelling on – mostly because he had been focusing on the more practical matters of keeping them all alive. But now, the spectre of the future was raising its ugly head.

But, in some strange way, he trusted Wilson with this. It was strange to be drawing comfort from a hard-hearted assassin, but he knew that the man, for all his faults, would keep his word and attempt to destroy any hurtful material. Jason couldn't ask for much more.

" It's a deal then. " Wilson held out a hand and Jason reached out and shock it. Hoping he wasn't signing away his soul or something equally dramatic, he was too damn tired to deal with any fallout.

Wilson handed him a phone. " It's modified. We'll keep in touch – if I discover they ' re aware of your whereabouts I ' ll let you know. Otherwise, I ' ll see you in New York in a week or three. "

Jason nodded. There was honestly a part of him that was sorry to see Wilson go – it had been good to have the back up. But now it was going to be down to him again, and he was pretty sure he was going to be doing a piss poor job as usual.

Twelve hours of sleep and food later, and Jason was finally able to see Dick. He was in a side room, tucked away. Bandaged and clean, with the flush of fever gone from his cheeks, he looked like he did any other time he got beat up on the job.

He _looked_ the same, but it wasn't the same for Jason. Something fundamental had changed in him, when it came to his complicated feelings for Dick, and he wasn't sure he could ever go back to how it had been before.

" Hey, Jay, " Dick said, with a smile. He seemed to think rhyming 'Hey, Jay' was the height of humor.

" Hey yourself, Dick-face. " Jason pulled up a chair and sat. He felt uncomfortable, like there were things he should be saying, but couldn't get the words past his own lips.

" I'm surprised you're still here, " Dick said, after a moment, he wiggled a little more upright in the bed, wincing as he did so.

" Where did you think I would go? " Jason snapped, working down a flash of hurt. " Did you think I would just leave you? "

" No, well, not just go home or something. But I figured you would have taken Slade and gone and blown ZK12 out of the water, so to speak. "

That made sense, but Jason still felt slightly offended. " We don't know were in the clear yet, I wouldn't just leave with you incapacitated. " Dick's eyes narrowed and a small frown started to form between his brows. Jason had some experience with feeling helpless, and how angry it could make a person, so he hastily clarified. " I'm sticking around to keep an eye on Ruiz too, you could probably best any attacker even with only one good leg, but she doesn't have the training we do. And anyway, I'm sick of lugging your heavy ass around with me. Time you pulled your weight. That means no popped stitches. "

" Aye, aye Captain, " Dick said, the storm apparently diverted for the moment. " Is Ruiz okay? " he asked, after a small pause, as he began shoving himself even further up the bed into an almost upright position.

" Yeah, I saw her earlier. She's doing fine, considering the fact she has three cracked ribs, strained ligaments in her left knee and has been suffering from dehydration and exhaustion. "

Dick nodded. " That's good. "

They sad in silence. There was a lot unsaid, and part of Jason hoped they could just avoid it, pretend none of this had happened. But that was selfish. And he had to remember that if he was feeling uncomfortable, it was likely that Dick was feeling much worse. He needed someone to talk things over with, a friendly face rather than Jason's ugly mug and all the baggage that went with it.

" Do you want me to call someone? " he blurted. " Roy or Babs or Bruce or whoever? "

" No! " Dick said sharply. And then looked a little shame faced. " I mean, you can call in and tell them we are okay. Just not …" he paused and wet his lips. " Please don't tell anyone. "

Jason sighed and leaned back in his chair, tipping his head up to stare at the pale green paint chipping and curing on the ceiling. " I won't, it ' s not for me to share. You don't have to worry about that on my account. " Dick's shoulders relaxed slightly and Jason felt another wave of hurt. But at the same time, he couldn't say he wouldn't have had the same fears, even if he knew and trusted a person. He sighed again. " You should think about talking to someone though. A friend, a therapist. Me, if you want. "

" I don't want to talk about it, I just want to move on. "

" I get that, I do. But don't rule it out is all I'm saying. "

Dick nodded, his eyes on the thin blanket covering his legs. He fidgeted with a loose thread, unraveling more of it, wrapping it round his fingers and releasing. Jason kept quiet, contemplating the ceiling, he figured Dick would get around to saying whatever was on his mind given a bit of time.

It took longer than he expected. Jason was in the middle of a daydream in which he had rescued Dick and Ruiz before they had been hurt. Although he was pissing himself off because Daydream Dick was somehow rescuing himself instead of letting Jason do it. Which was fine except it was a bit shitty he couldn't even be the hero in his own damn narrative. But then Real Dick cleared his throat and Jason was forced back to a reality where neither of them had rescued anybody in time.

" Is it stupid to feel so upset by something I barely remember happening? " Dick asked softly, still looking at his knees. The thread from the covers had snapped off and was now held taut between his fingers. " I mean, I know it happened. I could _feel_ it when I woke. Flashes have come back to me, but it doesn't seem like reality. It feels dumb to be so- " he paused, closed his eyes as he searched for a word. " I just feel stupid for everything, " he concluded at last.

Jason let out a breath. " It's not stupid. " There was so much more he needed to say, but the words wouldn't come. He wasn't cut out for this, the rawness of it was rubbing at the edges of his own buried hurts. " It's not stupid, " he said again, " violation doesn't even have to be physical to have an impact, its not surprising you're feeling upset about it. "

Dick looked at him with wide eyes and Jason regretted his word choice, if not his sentiment. He was very aware discussing this subject was something of a minefield, for both of them. He ploughed on regardless. " Look, all I'm saying is, don't bottle it up. If you're angry, punch stuff. If you're sad, cry. Or eat ice cream straight from the tub and cuddle puppies or whatever your sappy ass does when you feel shitty. "

He was pleased to see the ghost of a smile on Dick's face, he didn't want to make light of things, but he wasn't a fucking wordsmith either.

Then the smile fell away. " I know that, I've given versions of this speech in my night job and my day job, " Dick said, " I know it wasn't my fault, but …" he trailed off.

" But it doesn't change how you feel, " Jason finished for him. " I get that. "

Dick looked at him, suddenly serious and intense. It made Jason want to squirm, but he returned the gaze instead. There was a feeling of understanding, terrifying though it was. He didn't think he could cope if Dick gave voice to those thoughts. But he didn't, he just nodded, turning his attention back to the thread in his hands. " I just want to forget about it and move on, " he repeated.

" Fair enough, but don't be mad at yourself if your mind struggles to do what you want. "

" That's good advice, I guess. " Dick was giving him that look again, but luckily for them both he still didn't offer his thoughts on the subject.

Jason shrugged, wincing as the movement reminded him he had been shot twice recently. Even with body armor that was no fucking joke. " I'm the poster boy for PTSD and how not to deal, " he said.

" We're the poster family for that, to be honest, we learnt from the best, " Dick said with what looked like a genuine smile.

Jason felt the mood lighten for a moment, and he felt guilty from the relief he felt.

" Where's Slade? " Dick asked, instantly souring Jason's mood again.

"He's gone to check out if we are really home and dry or if we have to keep running. He'll be back soon I hope," Jason offered noncommittally. He was hoping that would be the end of it and he could move back to safer topics of conversation.

But no such luck, Dick was obnoxiously observant and nosy as fuck. " What's the deal with you guys? " he asked, his blue eyes guileless and curious. Bastard.

" With _us_? What's the deal with _you_? On first name basis and everything, " Jason attempted to deflect, but by the razor sharp glint in his eyes, belaying the innocent expression on his face, it looked like he had only succeeded in increasing Dick's interest.

" Well, he said you owe him, so I assume you worked together at some point. " Dick paused and shifted in the bed to get a better look at Jason's face " Jay, you're blushing! Tell me everything! " he sounded delighted, and Jason flushed harder.

Well, at least he had taken Dick's mind off his troubles – even at his own expense. The bastard looked intrigued and gleeful and it lightened Jason's heart at some level. This was going to be hard for Dick to overcome, but he didn't think this trauma was going to rule him. He would make it though, with a little help.

So who was Jason to deny him a little levity. " I would rather not talk about it, to be honest, " he said, as unconvincingly as possible. Dick of course, caught on to the game.

" Is it embarrassing? " he asked, sounding thrilled at the prospect.

" Obviously. I was hoping you hadn't noticed his unsubtle nonsense. "

" No such luck, I want all the details. Are you blushing because you did something embarrassing or because of something more sordid? " Dick wagged his eyebrows. It looked slightly off putting with his black eye and bruised face, but it was a familiar expression – one he had employed on numerous occasions when Jason had been a boy and been caught eyeing up Dick's many hot female friends. Dick had never seemed to notice him eyeing up his hot _male_ friends at the same time though, or maybe he had been attempting to be tactful. It was genuinely hard to tell.

Jason had been so pleased to see that expression on Dick's face he had not really been paying attention to his words, but he didn't even have to pretend outrage when he ran them back over in his mind, " Why would you even think that! " he demanded.

" Even your ears have gone red, Jason. I haven't seen you go that color since you walked in on Kory mostly naked in titans tower! " Dick grinned at the memory " I'm frankly surprised you didn't spontaneously combust you were so red faced. "

Jason felt himself blushing even more. God damn it, clearly the secret to cheering Dick up was going to be a run down of all his most embarrassing moments, thankfully he had a lot to work with. But yeah, that glimpse of tawny skin, hard muscle and full curves had fueled his fantasies for the remaining three and a half months of his young life. The fantasies that were not consumed with the sight of a similarly undressed Dick Grayson, who had been with her at the time, anyway.

Slightly mortifying, but Dick was grinning, and Jason very much wanted to keep that expression on his face and banish the returning shadows.

" Fine, " Jason said, mentally preparing himself for the embarrassment ahead. " You remember that serial killer shit going on in New York over the summer? "

" Yeah, nasty stuff. Young men tortured and butchered, before being thrown out with the trash, " Dick said, nodding.

And sexually assaulted. Jason couldn't bring himself to say it. This had been a fucking terrible story to tell to pick up Dick's spirits. But he couldn't stop now, if he did, Dick would catch on to his discomfort and be hurt or angry. "I decided to look into it, " he said, hoping the pause hadn't been noticed.

" New York isn't your patch, what brought you there? "

" It was a favor for a friend, I knew her from before. " Before being when she had been a young hustler called Miguel, working in the narrows, and Jason had been eating trash to survive. She had been kind, and Jason felt he owed her, so when she had asked for help he had agreed, no questions asked.

" Okay, what did you find? " Dick, despite his glee in Jason's discomfort, seemed to be an expert in skirting around the worst of Jason's past, only asking questions that he might actually want to answer. And Jason was extremely grateful for that.

" It wasn't a serial killer – not in the traditional sense. It was a group of people, kidnapping vulnerable young men and selling their deaths. "

Dick's lip curled, in disgust. " That's fucked up. "

" Yeah. So I traced one branch to this bar, an exclusive 'gentlemen's club' that caters to certain subcultures. "

" Was it The Thorn? " Dick asked, eyes bright with equal parts interest and amusement, " BDSM and overpriced cocktails served with a side of very attractive people? "

" You know it? "

" Yeah, " Dick said, and Jason raised an eyebrow right into his hairline. Dick rolled his eyes, " What? I lived in New York for a while. I'm familiar with some of the more exclusive sex clubs. For work. " he grinned, and it almost reached his eyes. " Mostly. "

Jason tried to avoid thinking about Dick in that particular establishment. He didn't know if he was feeling overprotective, or slightly turned on by the thought, it was confusing. He cleared his throat. " Right, so I was going to go in undercover, I thought it would be easy, I had the cash and credentials.

" But no one could vouch for you? "

" Who's telling this story? "

" Sorry. " Dick rolled his eyes, he didn't sound very sorry.

" I could get into the club itself, but not the VIP area – you could only get in there with someone to vouch for you, or if you were chosen by management as an unclaimed sub. "

" I can see where you're going with this. Did you go for it? You must have looked hot as hell all dressed up in leather. "

" I always wear leather, " Jason grumbled.

" You know what I mean – so how did Slade get involved? "

Jason squirmed remembering his surprise and embarrassment seeing the bastard there " I don't know what his deal was, what angle he was working or who paid him to off the guys, but he was there in the VIP area. "

" Hmm, " Dick said, his eyes shining with suppressed mirth, like he was laughing at a private joke.

" Anyway, " Jason pressed on, he was committed to this crap now and the faster it was over with, the better. " I went in, ended up in a bit over my head. It's not a scene I've had to work in before, so I was caught a bit by surprise. " That was an understatement, he had been completely out of his depth as soon as he went into the VIP area and realized he was going to have to pretend to be prey, rather than the predator he had been envisioning for the evening. He had played along as best he could, although rather poorly he suspected, when approached by his target. Although his confusion and reluctance had probably gone in his favor it was probably the fact he felt out of place and anxious that drew the man to him, like a shark scenting blood in the water.

The target had assumed he was a hustler trying out something new for more cash – it was exactly what Jason had been going for, but it made him feel uncomfortable. Then he had allowed himself to be maneuvered into a position of vulnerability, and he had been a hair's breadth from breaking his cover in a panic. Dumb as fuck. " Basically, he took the bait and then I got in a bit in over my head and kind of lost my shit for a bit, " he concluded awkwardly.

Dick was no longer laughing, he looked concerned. " Thought this way going to be a funny story. That sounds horrible, were you okay? "

" Yeah, I was fine, " Jason said with all the confidence he could put into his voice – why the hell had he started this stupid story? It was just one more terrible idea in a week of terrible ideas. " It wasn't awful or anything, I just didn't know how to play it, and I don't like restraints. Not on me at least. " He smirked, trying to regain the lightness he had going before. He ruthlessly pushed down the remembered fear and discomfort. When he had realized he couldn't get free and he had completely lost control of the situation, he had been close to a full blown freak out. Very unprofessional, He would bet Dick would have remained calm and dealt with things just fine, Bruce would have. But hell no, he was not thinking of Bruce in that situation, so much brain bleach needed now.

" You look like you just swallowed a lemon, " Dick said, somewhere between concerned and amused.

" My brain took me to an unrelated bad place. " Jason shifted himself in his seat. Took a swig of water from the cup by the side of Dick's bed in an effort to distract them both.

" Give that back, " Dick said, and reached for it. Jason handed it back over gratefully. Diversion achieved.

" So is that where Slade stepped in? " Dick asked, as he sipped from the cup. He seemed to have either decided to trust Jason's assurances that all had been fine, or was allowing Jason to get away with pretending.

" Yeah, took me by surprise, him being there was fucked up enough but it was pretty unexpected him coming to help me. But like I said, we were after the same guy so he probably saw me as a convenient way to achieve his goal. He told the target I was his for the night, and that he had been waiting for me. The guy agreed and we went off to the side for a bit to, er, talk. " Jason flushed again at the memory, so embarrassing to be rescued by freaking Deathstroke, _especially_ in those circumstances. " Wilson asked why I was there, even though he blatantly knew. "

" And you told him? "

" Yeah, he said I was good bait, and we could keep the guy ' s interest, then take him out together later. Seemed a good idea. " Keeping the targets interest had been an eye opening experience, and one he hadn't really finished processing.

" How'd you play it out? " Dick asked, he looked intrigued again.

" Wilson reeled him in by offering to go play at his private residence. The target jumped at the chance. So that's what we did. I found the info I needed and Slade whacked him. He claimed I owed him for stepping in and I had to kind of agree. " Jason was well aware he had left out a lot of juicy details there, but he had shared more than enough of that mess.

Dick looked contemplative. " Something doesn't sit right with me about this. " He looked at Jason through his lashes, a tiny smile giving him a devilish look.

" Oh? " Jason asked, cautiously.

" I just can't see Slade taking on a contract on his own turf. Don't shit where you eat, you know? "

" How do you mean? " Jason had a sinking feeling he was going to regret asking, but couldn't quite figure out what Dick was getting at.

" He's a regular at that club. I often wondered if he might even be a backer for it. On one hand that would be a great incentive to remove a serial killer from his patch, but on the other hand, he wouldn't do it where he could be associated with the people involved, he would do it quick and quiet. " Dick shrugged, there was a lot of expression in that small movement, " That would be my assessment, anyway. "

" So, what you ' re saying, is he was just there having fun, and then - " And then had fun at Jason's expense. He flushed so hard he was surprised his face didn't burst into flames.

Dick snorted with laughter, at least he looked amused again the bastard. " The look on your face! " he said, going so far as to point a finger in Jason's direction.

Jason huffed, feeling pissy and experiencing a weird combination of acute embarrassment over the whole thing and pride in having put that sparkle back into Dicks eyes. " How do you even know all this, you a regular there too? " he asked, unable to keep the surliness from his voice.

" No, but I have run into pretty much the same situation with Slade. The first time was very awkward, but by the second time I figured out he was a regular and not about to kill my mark. Although he wasn't above making my life difficult for his own amusement, he did keep things within acceptable boundaries and even helped me here and there. "

" What did you have to do? " He doubted it was as mortifying and sexually confusing as Jason attempting to pretend he knew what he was doing, just to be shown he most definitely did not.

" I had to give the bastard a lap dance. In front of _quite_ a lot of people, " Dick sounded wry and a bit fond. " He kept requesting me to give him more weird and elaborate dances, _and_ he was a shitty tipper. "

Jason wasn't sure how he felt about that, on one hand the image was disturbingly hot, on the other, after the events of the past week, he was feeling a little raw about stuff. About Dick being vulnerable or uncomfortable in such a situation. And he felt very weird about the idea of Slade being there, touching him in a sexual way, even if it was for show. At least he _hoped_ it had been for show.

He probably needed to stop thinking about it.

" You look like you're having a conniption, Jay, " Dick said. " It was fine, he was helpful even. " He smoothed down his blankets and gave Jason a sidelong glance. " What about you though, I've been laughing at you, but you were okay with it, right? With Slade? He didn't upset you or anything? "

" Nah, it was fine, " he was surprised to find that was mostly true. " It was an exercise in humility. But I guess, finding out he probably wasn't even working a contract makes me feel a bit better about him helping us now. He didn't have to step in, even if he did it for his own amusement. If he had walked away or just watched it might have gone badly for me. " That was hard to admit, but after this past week, it was hardly like Jason had much of a rep to uphold in front of Dick.

" I'm glad. "

" And you? Do you trust him? "

" Yeah. In this at least. The man has his own brand of honor, it's not the same as mine, as ours even, but as long we know what his limits are we can trust he will stick to them. Step outside that and he ' s as about as trustworthy as a hungry fox in a hen house though. "

Jason snorted. " Well worth remembering. "

" Yeah. " Dick reached over and squeezed Jason's fingers where they rested on his knee. " Thanks Jason, for everything. And for cheering me up with your tale of woe. "

Jason squeezed back awkwardly. " Any time, trust me if that's all it takes I got plenty. Next up; the time I went undercover at a college, passed an exam I hadn't studied for and got so drunk I woke up naked in a field with a bunch of cows and two hot cheerleaders. " Who had been disappointingly fully clothed and as hungover as he was. And dating each other, but whatever, it still made for a good story, and judging from the look on Dick's face he was going to have to tell it at some point.

" Looking forward to it, Jay. " Dick's eyes were sliding closed, and he was clearly fighting sleep.

" Get some rest, " Jason said, getting ready to heave his aching body out of the chair.

" Can you stay? Just for a bit? " Dick blurted, his face flushed and he grit his teeth. Admitting he needed someone close had obviously been hard.

" Sure, Dickie, whatever you need. " Jason settled back into the uncomfortable chair and resumed his inspection of the ceiling. He suspected he was going to be struggling to say 'no' to anything Dick asked of him in the coming days.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"No!" Jason said, as firmly as he could without yelling. He waved Dick's discharge papers at him for emphasis. "You're not going back there, you are going the fuck home to recover!"

"I can't leave this unfinished, Jason!" Dick had his most obstinate face on, and was using Jason's full name which always meant trouble.

"You're on leave, dammit. You'll be met at the airport for a full debrief with the FBI agents taking over the case, and then you will be flown back to the Haven or Gotham where you will be further debriefed and put on leave until you are fully recovered!" So maybe Jason was not doing so great at the not yelling.

" _Fine_ ," Dick said, the jut of his jaw hadn't lessened even a fraction and the stubborn anger in his gaze was still going at full throttle.

"That doesn't mean you can come back as Nightwing either, Dick." Jason growled, he could already see he was going to have to stake out the bullheaded jackasses apartment to prevent it. "If you even think about it, I'll tell Bruce you're not fit." He waved a hand as betrayal flooded Dick's face. "Not the specifics, but enough that he'll bench you."

"You think he can? I'm a grown man, I work _with_ him now, not for him."

"Do you? Do you really, Dick? If he says jump you'll jump and we both know it."

Dick huffed loudly, like a surly teenager. "You know me so well, Jason?"

"Stop being such an ass about this, give yourself a break."

Dick looked like he was gearing up to really let rip, and Jason didn't honestly think he could handle it, so he made an effort to rein in his own temper. "Look, Just take a bit of time, then we will go in together, okay? I'll even play by your rules." And he would. Mostly because he suspected Wilson was going to be pretty damn thorough with wiping out the Santa Prisca portion of ZK12. That left the American and European parts – Jason was planning to have a hand in some of that take down, he just had to bide his time.

Dick rubbed his hands over his face then looked at Jason with slightly wild eyes. "I can't sit around and do nothing, Jay. I can't, I'll lose it." He ran a hand back through his hair, tugging on it sharply. He was acting like a caged animal.

"I'm not saying don't do anything useful, Dick. I'm just saying that heading back to the Santa Prisca strong-hold is not going to be productive – if we send someone there it shouldn't be us, not now at least."

"Why? We're the best qualified," Dick insisted.

Jason took a calming breath. He wanted to go too, but he didn't want _Dick_ to go. That meant he had to play a little dirty. "We're too emotionally involved, we nearly _died."_

"Nearly dying is basically every other day for us, so don't give me that bullshit."

"Yeah, it is, but what happened to you terrified me!" Jason burst out, unable to contain himself. "I thought you were dead multiple times and I don't want to fucking deal with it yet, okay? I know if I go, I won't be fully on the ball and I am not going to give those fuckers the satisfaction of getting one over on me again!" He took a calming breath. "When I go after ZK12, I'm going to be prepared and I'm going to get them _all_."

Dick looked guilty now, which wasn't want Jason had been aiming for with his sudden honesty. This whole conversation was exhausting him. "Dick, just take a step back, what if our positions were reversed? What if, God forbid, it was Roy or Cassandra or Tim who had just been through what you have? How would you feel about them going back?"

"I would be afraid," Dick admitted, after a moment clearly battling with himself. "I'd suggest they sat out until they were recovered."

"Right. And then you would hare off and do it yourself. I get that. But I'm not asking you to stop trying to bring these fucks down, just leave the fighting part to others until you are back to full functionality. There is a shit ton of research to do – we need to get the entire organization, and we know very little about their operations in Europe. Let's do this smart, okay?"

Amazingly, Dick nodded and hobbled forward to snatch the discharge forms out of Jason's grip. "Since when did you get all sensible and shit?" he asked, signing the papers with a slightly shaky hand.

Jason was even more sure he was doing the right thing by preventing Dick from throwing himself back into this particular fight. He was still sick and emotionally wounded, getting him to take care of himself was going to be a challenge and Jason suspected it was going to be up to him. Whoopee.

"I've always been sensible, you people are the ones with dust for brains," Jason said with a dismissive sniff.

"Oh, don't give me that, little brother, I can list a bunch of times you've been an idiot or just gone completely loco. I mean, the whole Murder!Batman shtick was pretty bonkers, and that one time you blew a hole in the GCPD to get at a guy in the lock up, then murdered him in front of the damn cops."

"I'll give you the times when I was _actually_ out of my mind, big deal. And that guy abused four children that we know of so he deserved it. Other than those very specific occasions, I've been very sensible."

"You set fire to a nun," Dick said, smugly, as he took off towards the door with a wobbly gait.

Jason followed behind him, waving his arms in indignation. "I did not!" he said, hotly. "I set fire to some textbooks, the nun was accidental collateral damage, and it was just her habit that got a bit singed – no real harm done."

"That makes it okay then."

"Well, they never sent me back to that group home that's for sure," Jason grumbled. "How did you even find out about that?" It must have been from Bruce, the fucking traitor, although saying that – Bruce had been pretty forthcoming about the trouble Dick had gotten himself into during his years at the manor – the list of unfortunate incidents had been surprisingly expansive. He grinned. "If it's a competition between us, I can remind you of a fair few occasions where you have my indiscretions beat."

"Like what?" Dick handed over his papers at the front desk and leaned heavily on the wall, trying to pretend he wasn't exhausted from the short walk.

That didn't mean Jason was going to take pity on him. "When you were fifteen, you and Roy got drunk at a Wayne Charity Gala, and you pissed off a balcony and onto the guests having a smoke round back."

"That was Roy's fault!" Dick had gone a very fetching shade of pink.

"As I heard it, from _Bruce_ , you knew exactly what you were doing. You managed to get a direct hit on Mr. Slate, the man responsible for signing the papers that had given the CPS permission to take you away from the circus and then for placing you in Juvie instead of proper foster care. So, tell me again how it was an accident?"

Dick looked sheepish, "I was was angry and drunk enough I probably would have done worse if Roy hadn't talked me down."

"Harper being the voice of reason? Wonders will never cease."

"Sort of reason, I did still piss on a bunch of people."

"Sounds like something I would have done, to be honest," Jason didn't bother to hide his admiration.

"You didn't have the monopoly on teenage angst and problems with rage, Jason. I was just lucky enough to survive mine." Dick winced at his own words and a frown began to form on his face again.

Jason wanted to reach out to him. He wished he had known that younger Dick, really known him rather than what passed for their relationship a few years later. They probably would have burnt the manor to cinders or razed the city to the ground, but it would have been cathartic - misery loved company after all.

"Well," he said, ignoring the shadowed look on Dick's face. "Your worst offence by far was when you crashed Bruce's 1954 Bentley when you were twelve and he grounded you for life. You should still be grounded."

"I thought because it was old he wouldn't miss it as much!"

"A classic Bentley, Dick, practically vintage! And you _murdered_ it, that's sacrilege in car terms."

"Who did Grayson murder?" Ruiz joined them, still bruised but looking much better than the last time they had seen her.

"Bruce Wayne's car, a beautiful, beautiful car," Jason told her as Dick stepped forward to give her a tight hug.

"Don't be such a sap, Grayson," Ruiz said, her eyes suspiciously bright. "We have a long road ahead of us."

"Yeah. What are you going to do? You can't return to work while this is on going, it's too dangerous." Dick told her, repeating the exact thing Jason had just spent forty minutes arguing with him about. The man was clearly born to drive him crazy.

"I don't know," she admitted. "My family have gone to stay with my mother, so they are safe for the moment. I can't allow them to be at risk, but I don't want to give up this fight either. My superiors want me in witness protection, but we don't know if even that is going to be safe, they have people in the force."

"I know," Dick said, unhappily. "Look, maybe I can pull some strings, get you out the country for a few months. Both the FBI and Interpol have an interest in this case and keeping you alive to testify is going to be crucial for them."

"And how will you do that, Grayson?" Ruiz asked, sharply.

"Bruce Wayne has a lot of influence and a lot of cash. And he is going to be grateful you rescued his son," Jason told her.

"Which son?" she shot back and Dick's eyebrows climbed so high they disappeared under the ridiculous fall of his hair.

"What's this?" he asked.

"I told some bad guys I was Bruce's illegitimate son in order to stop them shooting me." Jason shrugged "I'm not, by the way," he told Ruiz.

"Hmm," Ruiz said, clearly unconvinced. "You're something to him though, and to each other. You don't risk the things you risked just for an acquaintance."

"He would," Jason jerked a thumb at Dick, who scoffed at him and made a face.

"So would you, you hadn't even met Ruiz and you helped me go back for her. At least I have the excuse that it's my job."

"It's mine too, In a manner of speaking."

"You're both idiots, is what you're telling me?" Ruiz said, with a wry grin.

"Basically," Dick agreed with an easy smile that was mostly real.

"And you both know each other from Bludhaven?"

"You are a relentless woman," Jason sighed. "Yes, we know each other, have done for awhile – I guess you could say I'm a PI, like Dick said, so our paths have crossed professionally. But we also know each other via-" he scrunched up his nose trying to think of a good description. "Mutual family," he finished at last.

Ruiz looked perplexed. "Okay, I'm not sure if that makes sense or not, but I'll take what I'm given, for now."

They headed towards the hospital entrance, where men in suits were waiting to take them to the airport. Jason really hoped the cover identity he and Dick had cobbled together for him held up under scrutiny. The internet connection had not been the best, or the most secure. Luckily they had access to some emergency pre-prepared electronic paperwork, provided for all of them by Alfred and Babs, to use when caught on the fly. Hopefully it was good enough to at least get them back to American soil.

They landed back in Gotham International at mid morning a few days later. All the debriefing had been grueling, but their story had held up. Neither they nor Ruiz had spoken much about the torture, just about the drugs and vague descriptions of beatings. They had agreed to keep Wilson's name out of it, just described him as some sort of private contractor fighting against the cartel who had helped them in the hopes of gaining information and cash. The story overall had been a little shaky, and there were some agents who clearly knew they were leaving stuff out, but the three of them held firm and stuck to their story.

Now it was time to go home and start recovering a little. That and put things into motion to get Ruiz to safety. She had balked at coming to America, but Jason figured they could negotiate with her to stay for a few months, or go somewhere else – Mexico or South America perhaps. Either way, they would make sure they had people to keep an eye on her wherever she ended up.

They stepped off the small private plane that had been provided for them to find Alfred waiting by one of Bruce's big grey cars, the winter sunlight hitting the bonnet like fireworks. Jason was torn between relief at being home and trepidation of having to face his family, even if it was just Alf.

He hesitated, he didn't want to keep his feet moving towards the car. either did Dick it seemed, he was tense and practically vibrating with anxiety as their boots hit the tarmac. And Jason couldn't leave him.

His warped sense of guilt and his over-protective instincts were going to fuck him up. But there was no way around it that he could see. His need to be there for Dick in some undefined way was going to take him right back into the jaws of his past, which was the last place he wanted to be after the few weeks they had just had.

"Hey, Alf," Dick said, with a tight and unconvincing grin. "Thanks for picking us up."

It was clear the fake cheer wasn't missed, as Alfred nodded a greeting. "Master Dick, I'm glad to see you home in one piece. Master Jason, a rare pleasure."

Jason flushed and raised a hand in a half-hearted wave. He had not been prepared for this, he should have been. But he wasn't.

If he thought that was bad, sliding into the warm interior of the car and coming face to face with Bruce was like a nightmare come to life. For years he had dreamed of bumping into him while in his underwear or other awkward situations. This was way, way worse.

He froze, staring at Bruce's impassive face. Dick followed him into the car, still exchanging platitudes with Alfred. He had clearly expected Jason to have moved further inside and sat practically on his lap, making them both jump in surprise. Dick tumbled back out onto the tarmac. Jason remained where he was, eyes no doubt comically wide.

Bruce looked utterly mystified, or at least there was a confused furrow in his brow which conveyed as much.

"Dick?" he asked, "are you alright?"

The deep rumble of his voice, so totally different from Wilson's smug tones, made feeling crash into Jason like high tide against the rocks. He was usually so much more fortified for any meetings with Bruce – but now he was so raw from everything that had happened, he felt like just being in the man's presence could break him apart.

Dick's head appeared in the doorway, he was slightly pink from embarrassment. "Hey, Bruce," He said, not meeting his eyes – always a fatal mistake. Instead he looked at Jason "What the hell, Jay? Move up."

Jason moved. Which left him facing Bruce in the broad interior of the car. He wished it was Batman there to greet them instead. He knew how he felt about Batman, wasn't so conflicted and full of doubt.

Dick slid in beside him and shut the door, taking a moment to fiddle with his seat belt, perhaps attempting to collect himself, as Jason was also desperately trying to do. He hadn't expected this either.

Bruce was impassive, but he was watching Dick carefully. He may not be showing anything on his face, but he was clearly cataloging Dick's slightly odd behavior. Jason in turn, watched him for any sign he was going to do anything to upset Dick. Bruce often struggled to express his concern in a helpful or constructive way, and instead went for bluntness, irritation or flinty silence. Jason was aware that in this, he and the old man were very much alike, and he hated it.

"To what do we owe this honor?" Jason said into the awkward pause, forcing the words out and trying his level best to keep his voice nice and even.

"You fell off the grid for a week. First Dick takes off for _work,"_ said with a surprising edge of scorn _,_ "t hen I get the BPD knocking at my door saying he has been kidnapped, and to wait on a ransom that never came. I was concerned, ZK12 rarely return kidnap victims in good shape." He didn't sound concerned, he sounded like he was placing an order in the World's most mediocre restaurant. A clear sign he had probably been climbing the walls with worry.

"Why didn't you come rescue him then?" Jason snapped in spite of himself.

"Because I discovered you had also gone to Santa Prisca, and I decided the two of you together could probably take care of things, or at least let me know if that wasn't the case. At the time I believed no news was good news and you were both undercover. Was I wrong?"

And wow, to be giving that kind of trust, even in such a backhanded way, was so huge, so intense that Jason wouldn't know what to do with it on a good day. This however was not a good day. He had completely and utterly failed to do anything Bruce had put his faith in him doing.

He was surprised to find there were still new ways to feel completely crushed.

He sat mute and wide eyed staring at Bruce with his mouth slightly open, like a landed fish. What the fuck could he say? Could he say anything without having a complete emotional meltdown? He honestly wasn't sure.

"No, you weren't wrong," Dick said, his voice was thick, and he cleared his throat loudly. "I was careless and got caught, Jason rescued me. If he hadn't I might never have got out. They used a drug on me I'm unfamiliar with. We did have a look at the properties of it – Jason ran tests in the field to prevent side effects when he gave me antibiotics. We have all the data, if we run it through the computer in the cave I bet we can find trace hits in that people trafficking case from Gotham North last month – I wager that's what they were hitting the victims with and it wouldn't have shown up in any of the regular tests."

And with that, Bruce allowed himself to be distracted. But Jason suspected it was only superficial, he was still watching them both very carefully. Dick was now making a good show of acting normal, but it had been a shaky enough start that Bruce was clearly suspicious. And Jason was acting far from normal too despite his best efforts, he was usually so full of piss and vinegar whenever they had contact that his silence was probably an even bigger warning sign than Dick's awkwardness. At least Dick could pass his off at embarrassment for his 'stupidity' in getting caught.

Taking the blame for what had happened was such a typical Dick thing. A month ago Jason would have sneered at it, mocked and berated him for his dumb-ass martyr complex. But now, he was covering for Jason's mistakes and not only that, he was blatantly forgiving them.

It was intolerable.

Suddenly Jason's skin felt itchy, like there were insects made of doubt and shame crawling all over him. He couldn't _breathe_ in the damn car, he had to get out.

As they drew towards the intersection at 23 rd and 12 th Jason unbuckled his belt. Dick shot him a wide eyed glance, but before he could say anything, they stopped at the lights and Jason threw open the door, practically falling onto the sidewalk in his haste to escape. He heard Dick calling his name but he ignored it and took off as fast as his throbbing ankle could carry him.

He was running on instinct, down familiar alleys and side streets, vaulting the fence at old Martins place and twisting through the doorway of the abandoned grocery shop on the corner . When he finally came to a halt, close to one of his shabbier safe houses, all he could do was sink to the floor and try to breathe. He honestly couldn't deal with this, with any of it.

Fuck, _Dick_ was taking things better than him. He needed a drink, but failing that, he needed to hit the streets and beat the fear and confusion out of himself.

Evening found him pacing his safe house like a trapped beast. He was feeling terrible for abandoning Dick, and for the questions he had probably had to field on Jason's behalf. But the prospect of having to go to the manor to see him was not bearable , and unnecessary anyway. If he was there then he was safe and someone would be making sure he was looking after himself, but what was the probability of that actually being the case? It was far more likely he had gone home to Bludhaven like the annoying self sacrificing prick he was. And that meant that at best he would be moping and at worst, Nightwing would be preparing to hit the streets in an hour or so. And that was a recipe for disaster.

"Fuck!" Jason chucked his half empty can of beer in the direction of the sink. It wasn't helping anyway, and any more and he wouldn't be able to suit up and hit the roof tops, let alone drive to the Haven. Which appeared to be what he was doing, judging by the fact he was already out of the door, keys to his bike in his hand.

He justified it to himself as he drove, if Dick was there, he would need watching because he was a moron. If he wasn't in the Haven, then his patch was undefended and Jason would be more use there than Gotham, which tended to be rather saturated with vigilantes these days.

It was a completely logical course of action.

He decided to scope out Dick's shitty apartment from the roof of the chicken shop across the way rather than knock on the door. Most of the apartment seemed dark, except for the hallway and bathroom lights. He was fairly sure even Dick would have remembered to switch his lights off before going away on a long term mission. Probably.

He would just wait for a bit, and then head out, that way he could cover all his bases. Jason flipped out his binoculars and settled back to watch.

"Papa Bat teach you those manners? Spying is pretty invasive, you know," Dick said, from somewhere behind him, making Jason jump and cuss colorfully before spinning round to face him.

Dick was dressed in ratty sneakers, leggings and a big warm sweater. He looked like he belonged on the rooftop as much as Nightwing did, like he owned it. But he also looked like a slob, and leggings ? Really? Jason was surprised at the rush of warmth that overtook the embarrassment at having been caught stalking him.

"The fuck you wearing, Dick?" he asked, with as much of a sneer as he could put in his voice.

Dick looked down at himself. "What these? Running tights. They're warmer than slacks or sweats and better for clambering on rooftops."

"Uh huh."

"Whatever, at least I'm not hanging around on freezing cold buildings and spying on people."

"How'd you know?" Jason asked.

Dick's lips twitched. "Lucky guess. Although if I'm honest, this is the second spot I checked." He shrugged. "I figured you might want to check up on me, you've been bizarrely attentive since we got to the hospital."

"Yeah, well," Jason said, pointlessly. It was unnerving that he had been so transparent, even more so that he hadn't really noticed himself doing it. But he supposed all the hand holding and sappy shit had been a bit out of character.

"I have food inside, enough for two." Dick pushed off the building he was leaning against and started towards the fire escape.

Jason was slightly perturbed he had apparently been such a sure thing Dick had even planned to feed him. He got up stiffly and followed. "You didn't cook it though, right?" He asked as he swung down after Dick, who was scaling down the building effortlessly, despite his bad leg. "I've heard tales of your cooking, none were complimentary."

"Yeah, yeah," Dick said, "those stories have been greatly exaggerated. I'll have you know I'm a wizard with the microwave these days."

Food was actually spaghetti bolognese, and although the sauce was mostly from a bottle, it was a satisfying meal with the addition of mince and some frozen veg. The silence while they ate was companionable, and Jason felt at ease for the first time in far too long.

After dinner, Dick shoved the dishes into the sink and waved off Jason's offer to clean them, instead he ushered him through to the living room and sat on the big comfy chair, dislodging a small pile of dirty laundry and take-out menus.

Jason chose the sofa, which was relatively free of debris, he did find one of Dick's escrima sticks wedged behind the cushion, but that was the only offensive item. Dick flicked the TV on wordlessly, hunting thought he channels with a quiet determination. It was clear he didn't want to talk and Jason decided to give him his space.

"What horrifying show are you going to subject me to?" he asked, as Dick failed to settle on a channel.

Dick looked relieved, like he had been expecting Jason to insist on talking about things. Like he would.

"Dunno," he said, "maybe this documentary about mermaids?"

"Why the fuck would I want to watch that?"

"Because mermaids, Jason. Who doesn't love mermaids?"

Jason hid a grin and leaned back in his seat, shoving aside a stack of messy note pads with his socked foot so he could rest it on the small coffee table. Dick didn't seem to care about the abuse of his furniture and swung his own legs over the arm of the chair. Curling into his ridiculous sweater and twitching his feet like he couldn't keep still.

It occurred to Jason that although Dick had made a good argument for the leggings, the true reason for his choice of attire might be a little more complicated. They were the closest thing to his Nightwing suit in terms of strong figure hugging material he could possibly get away with. The suit was more than just a costume, it was wrapped up with so much _self_. A shield, a comfort, it represented strength and safety.

It was the same reason Jason was wearing his old battered body armor under his shirt.

Both of them were still struggling to deal with all that had happened and all that was to come, and Jason was genuinely concerned about what lay ahead for Dick, who followed in the family footsteps and tended to deal with the bad shit by ignoring it or self flagellating.

It was going to be a hard road, but right now there was a scene of calm, and Jason found himself enjoying the easy silence as Dick sniggered at the TV and jiggled his legs around annoyingly.

There would be time to deal with the crap tomorrow, or the next day. For now he was just glad they were both home safe.

\- End


End file.
